DIVERSITY  OF  CA  RIV   RSIDE    LIBRARY 


3  1210018389005 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


THE 

BLAZED 
TRAIL 


WORKS  of 
STEWART 


c 


Garcten  City,  New ^(ork 

DOUBLEDAXPAGE  &CO. 

1913 


Copyright,  1901  and  1902,  by     |  ^)  )  ^ 
S.  S.  McCLURE  CO. 

1902  by 
STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE 


A  TABLE  of  the  CONTENTS 

PART  I 

Pag* 

THE  FOREST / 

PART  II 
THE  LANDLOOKER /// 

PART  111 
THE  BLAZING   OF  THE   TRAIL   .    .    .  179 

PART  IV 
THORPE'S  DREAM  GIRL 263 

PART  V 
THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  TRAIL  .    .  307 


THE 

BLAZED 
TRAIL 

r 

Part  I 
The  Forest 


Chapter  S 


F"  JTT'HEN  history  has  granted  him  the  justice 
l/l/  of  perspective,  we  shall  know  the  American 
*  *  Pioneer  as  one  of  the  most  picturesque  of 
her  many  figures.  Resourceful,  self-reliant,  bold; 
adapting  himself  with  fluidity  to  diverse  circumstances 
and  conditions;  meeting  with  equal  cheerfulness  of 
confidence  and  completeness  of  capability  both  un- 
known dangers  and  the  perils  by  which  he  has  been 
educated;  seizing  the  useful  in  the  lives  of  the  beasts 
and  men  nearest  him,  and  assimilating  it  with  mar- 
vellous rapidity;  he  presents  to  the  world  a  picture 
of  complete  adequacy  which  it  would  be  difficult  to 
match  in  any  other  walk  of  life.  He  is  a  strong  man, 
with  a  strong  man's  virtues  and  a  strong  man's  vices. 
In  him  the  passions  are  elemental,  the  dramas  epic, 
for  he  lives  in  the  age  when  men  are  close  to  nature, 
and  draw  from  her  their  forces.  He  satisfies  his  needs 
direct  from  the  earth.  Stripped  of  all  the  towns  can 
give  him,  he  merely  resorts  to  a  facile  substitution. 
It  becomes  an  affair  of  rawhide  for  leather,  buckskin 
for  cloth,  venison  for  canned  tomatoes.  We  feel  that 
his  steps  are  planted  on  solid  earth,  for  civilizations 
may  crumble  without  disturbing  his  magnificent  self- 
poise.  In  him  we  perceive  dimly  his  environment. 
He  has  something  about  him  which  other  men  do  not 
possess  —  a  frank  clearness  of  the  eye,  a  swing  of  the 
shoulder,  a  carriage  of  the  hips,  a  tilt  of  the  hat,  an 
air  of  muscular  well-being  —  which  marks  him  as  be- 
longing to  the  advance  guard,  whether  he  wears  buck- 
skin, mackinaw,  sombrero,  or  broadcloth.  The  woods 


4  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

are  there,  the  plains,  the  rivers.  Snow  is  there,  and 
the  line  of  the  prairie.  Mountain  peaks  and  still  pine 
forests  have  impressed  themselves  subtly;  so  that 
when  we  turn  to  admire  his  unconsciously  graceful 
swing,  we  seem  to  hear  the  ax  biting  the  pine,  or  the 
prospector's  pick  tapping  the  rock.  And  in  his  eye 
is  the  capability  of  quiet  humor,  which  is  just  the 
quality  that  the  surmounting  of  many  difficulties  will 
give  a  man. 

Like  the  nature  he  has  fought  until  he  understands, 
his  disposition  is  at  once  kindly  and  terrible.  Out- 
side the  subtleties  of  his  calling,  he  sees  only  red.  Re- 
lieved of  the  strenuousness  of  his  occupation,  he  turns 
all  the  force  of  the  wonderful  energies  that  have  car- 
ried him  far  where  other  men  would  have  halted,  to 
channels  in  which  a  gentle  current  makes  flood 
enough.  It  is  the  mountain  torrent  and  the  canal. 
Instead  of  pleasure,  he  seeks  orgies.  He  runs  to  wild 
excesses  of  drinking,  fighting,  and  carousing  —  which 
would  frighten  most  men  to  sobriety  —  with  a  happy, 
reckless  spirit  that  carries  him  beyond  the  limits  of 
even  his  extraordinary  forces. 

This  is  not  the  moment  to  judge  him.  And  yet  one 
cannot  help  admiring  the  magnificently  picturesque 
spectacle  of  such  energies  running  riot.  The  power 
is  still  in  evidence,  though  beyond  its  proper  appli- 
cation. 


Chapter  II 


/N  the  network  of  streams  draining  the  eastern 
portion  of  Michigan  and  known  as  the  Saginaw 
waters,  the  great  firm  of  Morrison  &  Daly  had 
for  many  years  carried  on  extensive  logging  opera- 
tions in  the  wilderness.  The  number  of  their  camps 
was  legion,  of  their  employees  a  multitude.  Each 
spring  they  had  gathered  in  their  capacious  booms 
from  thirty  to  fifty  million  feet  of  pine  logs. 

Now  at  last,  in  the  early  eighties,  they  reached  the 
end  of  their  holdings.  Another  winter  would  finish 
the  cut.  Two  summers  would  see  the  great  mills  at 
Beeson  Lake  dismantled  or  sold,  while  Mr.  Daly,  the 
"  woods  partner  "  of  the  combination,  would  flit  away 
to  the  scenes  of  new  and  perhaps  more  extensive 
operations.  At  this  juncture  Mr.  Daly  called  to  him 
John  Radway,  a  man  whom  he  knew  to  possess  ex- 
tensive experience,  a  little  capital,  and  a  desire  for 
more  of  both. 

"  Radway,"  said  he,  when  the  two  found  them- 
selves alone  in  the  mr'll  office,  "  we  expect  to  cut  this 
year  some  fifty  millions,  which  will  finish  our  pine 
Holdings  in  the  Saginaw  waters.  Most  of  this  timber 
lies  over  in  the  Crooked  Lake  district,  and  that  we 
expect  to  put  in  ourselves.  We  own,  however,  five 
million  on  the  Cass  Branch  which  we  would  like  to 
log  on  contract.  Would  you  care  to  take  the  job  ?  " 

"  How  much  a  thousand  do  you  give  ?  "  asked  Rad- 
way. 

**  Four  dollars,"  replied  the  lumberman. 

"  111  look  at  it,"  replied  the  jobber. 


6  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

So  Radway  got  the  "  descriptions  "  and  a  little  map 
divided  into  townships,  sections,  and  quarter  sec- 
tions ;  and  went  out  to  look  at  it.  He  searched  until 
he  found  a  "  blaze  "  on  a  tree,  the  marking  on  which 
indicated  it  as  the  corner  of  a  section.  From  this  cor- 
ner the  boundary  lines  were  blazed  at  right  angles  in 
either  direction.  Radway  followed  the  blazed  lines. 
Thus  he  was  able  accurately  to  locate  isolated  "  for- 
ties "  (forty  acres),  "  eighties,"  quarter  sections,  and 
sections  in  a  primeval  wilderness.  The  feat,  however, 
required  considerable  woodcraft,  an  exact  sense  of  di- 
rection, and  a  pocket  compass. 

These  resources  were  still  further  drawn  upon  for 
the  next  task.  Radway  tramped  the  woods,  hills,  and 
valleys  to  determine  the  most  practical  route  over 
which  to  build  a  logging  road  from  the  standing  tim- 
ber to  the  shores  of  Cass  Branch.  He  found  it  to  be 
an  affair  of  some  puzzlement.  The  pines  stood  on  a 
country  rolling  with  hills,  deep  with  pot-holes.  It  be- 
came necessary  to  dodge  in  and  out,  here  and  there, 
between  the  knolls,  around  or  through  the  swamps, 
still  keeping,  however,  the  same  general  direction,  and 
preserving  always  the  requisite  level  or  down  grade. 
Radway  had  no  vantage  point  from  which  to  survey, 
the  country.  A  city  man  would  promptly  have  lost 
himself  in  the  tangle;  but  the  woodsman  emerged 
at  last  on  the  banks  of  the  stream,  leaving  behind 
him  a  meandering  trail  of  clipped  trees  that  wound, 
twisted,  doubled,  and  turned,  but  kept  ever  to  a  coun- 
try without  steep  hills.  From  the  main  road  he  pur- 
posed arteries  to  tap  the  most  distant  parts. 

"  I'll  take  it,"  said  he  to  Daly. 

Now  Radway  happened  to  be  in  his  way  a  peculiar 
character.  He  was  acutely  sensitive  to  the  human  side 
of  those  with  whom  he  had  dealings.  In  fact,  he  was 
more  inclined  to  take  their  point  of  view  than  to  hold 
his  own.  For  that  reason,  the  subtler  disputes  were 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  7 

likely  to  go  against  him.  His  desire  to  avoid  com- 
ing into  direct  collision  of  opinion  with  the  other  man, 
veiled  whatever  of  justice  might  reside  in  his  own 
contention.  Consequently  it  was  difficult  for  him 
to  combat  sophistry  or  a  plausible  appearance  of  right. 
Daly  was  perfectly  aware  of  Radway's  peculiarities, 
and  so  proceeded  to  drive  a  sharp  bargain  with  him. 

Customarily  a  jobber  is  paid  a  certain  proportion  of 
the  agreed  price  as  each  stage  of  the  work  is  com- 
pleted—  so  much  when  the  timber  is  cut;  so  much 
when  it  is  skidded,  or  piled;  so  much  when  it  is 
stacked  at  the  river,  or  banked;  so  much  when  the 
"  drive  "  down  the  waters  of  the  river  is  finished. 
Daly  objected  to  this  method  of  procedure. 

"  You  see,  Radway,"  he  explained,  "  it  is  our  kst 
season  in  the  country.  When  this  lot  is  in,  we  want 
to  pull  up  stakes,  so  we  can't  take  any  chances  on 
not  getting  that  timber  in.  If  you  don't  finish  your 
job,  it  keeps  us  here  another  season.  There  can  be 
no  doubt,  therefore,  that  you  finish  your  job.  In 
other  words,  we  can't  take  any  chances.  If  you  start 
the  thing,  you've  got  to  carry  it  'way  through." 

"  I  think  I  can,  Mr.  Daly,"  the  jobber  assured 
him. 

"  For  that  reason,"  went  on  Daly,  "  we  object  to 
paying  you  as  the  work  progresses.  We've  got  to 
have  a  guarantee  that  you  don't  quit  on  us,  and  that 
those  logs  will  be  driven  down  the  branch  as  far  as 
the  river  in  time  to  catch  our  drive.  Therefore  I'm 
going  to  make  you  a  good  price  per  thousand,  but 
payable  only  when  the  logs  are  delivered  to  our  river- 
men." 

Radway,  with  his  usual  mental  attitude  of  one 
anxious  to  justify  the  other  man,  ended  by  seeing  only 
his  employer's  argument.  He  did  not  perceive  that 
the  latter's  proposition  introduced  into  the  transac- 
tion a  gambling  element.  It  became  possible  for  Mor- 


8  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

rison  &  Daly  to  get  a  certain  amount  of  work,  short 
of  absolute  completion,  done  for  nothing. 

"  How  much  does  the  timber  estimate  ? "  he  in- 
quired finally. 

"  About  five  millions." 

"  I'd  need  a  camp  of  forty  or  fifty  men  then.  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  run  such  a  camp  without  bor- 
rowing." 

"  You  have  some  money,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  a  little.    But  I  have  a  family,  too." 

"That's  all  right.  Now  look  here."  Daly  drew 
towards  him  a  sheet  of  paper  and  began  to  set  down 
figures  showing  how  the  financing  could  be  done. 
Finally  it  was  agreed.  Radway  was  permitted  to 
draw  on  the  Company's  warehouse  for  what  provis- 
ions he  would  need.  Daly  let  him  feel  it  as  a  con- 
cession. 

All  this  was  in  August.  Radway,  who  was  a  good 
practical  woodsman,  set  about  the  job  immediately. 
He  gathered  a  crew,  established  his  camp,  and  began 
at  once  to  cut  roads  through  the  country  he  had  al- 
ready blazed  on  his  former  trip. 

Those  of  us  who  have  ever  paused  to  watch  a  group 
of  farmers  working  out  their  road  taxes,  must  have 
gathered  a  formidable  impression  of  road-clearing. 
And  the  few  of  us  who,  besides,  have  experienced  the 
adventure  of  a  drive  over  the  same  highway  after  the 
tax  has  been  pronounced  liquidated,  must  have  in- 
dulged in  varied  reflections  as  to  the  inadequacy  of  the 
result. 

Radway's  task  was  not  merely  to  level  out  and  bal- 
last the  six  feet  of  a  road-bed  already  constructed, 
but  to  cut  a  way  for  five  miles  through  the  unbroken 
wilderness.  The  way  had  moreover  to  be  not  less 
than  twenty-five  feet  wide,  needed  to  be  absolutely 
level  and  free  from  any  kind  of  obstructions,  and  re- 
quired in  the  swamps  liberal  ballasting  with  poles, 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  9 

called  corduroys.  To  one  who  will  take  the  trouble 
•o  recall  the  variety  of  woods,  thickets,  and  jungles 
chat  go  to  make  up  a  wooded  country  —  especially  in 
the  creek  bottoms  where  a  logging  road  finds  often  its 
levelest  way  —  and  the  piles  of  windfalls,  vines, 
bushes,  and  scrubs  that  choke  the  thickets  with  a  dis- 
couraging and  inextricable  tangle,  the  clearing  of  five 
miles  to  street  width  will  look  like  an  almost  hopeless 
undertaking.  Not  only  must  the  growth  be  removed, 
but  the  roots  must  be  cut  out,  and  the  inequalities  of 
the  ground  levelled  or  filled  up.  Reflect  further  that 
Radway  had  but  a  brief  time  at  his  disposal,  —  but  a 
few  months  at  most,  —  and  you  will  then  be  in  a  posi- 
tion to  gauge  the  first  difficulties  of  those  the  Ameri- 
can pioneer  expects  to  encounter  as  a  matter  of  course. 
The  cutting  of  the  road  was  a  mere  incident  in  the 
battle  with  the  wilderness. 

The  jobber,  of  course,  pushed  his  roads  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  but  was  greatly  handicapped  by  lack  of 
men.  Winter  set  in  early  and  surprised  him  with  sev- 
eral of  the  smaller  branches  yet  to  finish.  The  main 
line,  however,  was  done. 

At  intervals  squares  were  cut  out  alongside.  In 
them  two  long  timbers,  or  skids,  were  laid  andiron- 
wise  for  the  reception  of  the  piles  of  logs  which  would 
be  dragged  from  the  fallen  trees.  They  were  called 
skidways.  Then  finally  the  season's  cut  began. 

The  men  who  were  to  fell  the  trees,  Radway  distrib- 
uted along  one  boundary  of  a  "  forty."  They  were  in- 
structed to  move  forward  across  the  forty  in  a  straight 
line,  felling  every  pine  tree  over  eight  inches  in  diam- 
eter. While  the  "  saw-gangs,"  three  in  number,  pre- 
pared to  fell  the  first  trees,  other  men,  called  "  swamp- 
ers," were  busy  cutting  and  clearing  of  roots  narrow 
little  trails  down  through  the  forest  from  the  pine  to 
the  skidway  at  the  edge  of  the  logging  road.  The 
trails  were  perhaps  three  feet  wide,  and  marvels  of 


io  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

smoothness,  although  no  attempt  was  made  to  level 
mere  inequalities  of  the  ground.  They  were  called 
travoy  roads  (French  travois).  Down  them  the  logs 
would  be  dragged  and  hauled,  either  by  means  of 
heavy  steel  tongs  or  a  short  sledge  on  which  one  end 
of  the  timber  would  be  chained. 

Meantime  the  sawyers  were  busy.  Each  pair  of 
men  selected  a  tree,  the  first  they  encountered  over 
the  blazed  line  of  their  "  forty."  After  determining  in 
which  direction  it  was  to  fall,  they  set  to  work  to  chop 
a  deep  gash  in  that  side  of  the  trunk. 

Tom  Broadhead  and  Henry  Paul  picked  out  a  tre- 
mendous pine  which  they  determined  to  throw  across 
a  little  open  space  in  proximity  to  the  travoy  road. 
One  stood  to  right,  the  other  to  left,  and  alternately 
their  axes  bit  deep.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  this,  of 
experts  wielding  their  tools.  The  craft  of  the  woods- 
man means  incidentally  such  a  free  swing  of  the 
shoulders  and  hips,  such  a  directness  of  stroke  as  the 
blade  of  one  sinks  accurately  in  the  gash  made  by 
the  other,  that  one  never  tires  of  watching  the  grace 
of  it.  Tom  glanced  up  as  a  sailor  looks  aloft. 

"  She'll  do,  Hank,"  he  said. 

The  two  then  with  a  dozen  half  clips  of  the  ax,  re- 
moved the  inequalities  of  the  bark  from  the  saw's 
path.  The  long,  flexible  ribbon  of  steel  began  to  sing, 
bending  so  adaptably  to  the  hands  and  motions  of  the 
men  manipulating,  that  it  did  not  seem  possible  so 
mobile  an  instrument  could  cut  the  rough  pine.  In  a 
moment  the  song  changed  timbre.  Without  a  word 
the  men  straightened  their  backs.  Tom  flirted  along 
the  blade  a  thin  stream  of  kerosene  oil  from  a  bottle 
in  his  hip  pocket,  and  the  sawyers  again  bent  to  their 
work,  swaying  back  and  forth  rhythmically,  their  mus- 
cles rippling  under  the  texture  of  their  woolens  like 
those  of  a  panther  under  its  skin.  The  outer  edge  of 
the  saw-blade  disappeared. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  11 

"  Better  wedge  her,  Tom,"  advised  Hank. 

They  paused  while,  with  a  heavy  sledge,  Tom  drove 
a  triangle  of  steel  into  the  crack  made  by  the  sawing. 
This  prevented  the  weight  of  the  tree  from  pinching 
the  saw,  which  is  a  ruin  at  once  to  the  instrument  and 
the  temper  of  the  filer.  Then  the  rhythmical  z-z-zl 
s-z-z!  again  took  up  its  song. 

When  the  trunk  was  nearly  severed,  Tom  drove  an- 
other and  thicker  wedge. 

"  limber! "  hallooed  Hank  in  a  long-drawn  melo- 
dious call  that  melted  through  the  woods  into  the  dis- 
tance. The  swampers  ceased  work  and  withdrew  to 
safety. 

But  the  tree  stood  obstinately  upright.  So  the  saw 
leaped  back  and  forth  a  few  strokes  more. 

"  Crack! "  called  the  tree. 

Hank  coolly  unhooked  his  saw  handle,  and  Tom 
drew  the  blade  through  and  out  the  other  side. 

The  tree  shivered,  then  leaned  ever  so  slightly  from 
the  perpendicular,  then  fell,  at  first  gently,  afterwards 
with  a  crescendo  rush,  tearing  through  the  branches 
of  other  trees,  bending  the  small  timber,  breaking  the 
smallest,  and  at  last  hitting  with  a  tremendous  crash 
and  bang  which  filled  the  air  with  a  fog  of  small  twigs, 
needles,  and  the  powder  of  snow,  that  settled  but 
slowly.  There  is  nothing  more  impressive  than  this 
rush  of  a  pine  top,  excepting  it  be  a  charge  of  cavalry 
or  the  fall  of  Niagara.  Old  woodsmen  sometimes 
shout  aloud  with  the  mere  excitement  into  which  it 
lifts  them. 

Then  the  swampers,  who  had  by  now  finished  the 
travoy  road,  trimmed  the  prostrate  trunk  clear  of  afr 
protuberances.  It  required  fairly  skillful  ax  work. 
The  branches  had  to  be  shaved  close  and  clear,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  trunk  must  not  be  gashed.  And 
often  a  man  was  forced  to  wield  his  instrument  from  a 
constrained  position. 


12  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

The  chopped  branches  and  limbs  had  now  to  be 
dragged  clear  and  piled.  While  this  was  being  fin- 
ished, Tom  and  Hank  marked  off  and  sawed  the  log 
lengths,  paying  due  attention  to  the  necessity  of 
avoiding  knots,  forks,  and  rotten  places.  Thus  some 
of  the  logs  were  eighteen,  some  sixteen,  or  fourteen, 
and  some  only  twelve  feet  in  length. 

Next  appeared  the  teamsters  with  their  little 
wooden  sledges,  their  steel  chains,  and  their  tongs 
They  had  been  helping  the  skidders  to  place  the 
parallel  and  level  beams,  or  skids,  on  which  the  logs 
were  to  be  piled  by  the  side  of  the  road.  The  tree 
which  Tom  and  Hank  had  just  felled,  lay  up  a  gentle 
slope  from  the  new  travoy  road,  so  little  Fabian 
Laveque,  the  teamster,  clamped  the  bite  of  his  tongs 
to  the  end  of  the  largest,  or  butt,  log. 

"Allez,  Molly!  "he  cried. 

The  horse,  huge,  elephantine,  her  head  down,  nose 
close  to  her  chest,  intelligently  spying  her  steps, 
moved.  The  log  half  rolled  over,  slid  three  feet,  and 
menaced  a  stump. 

"  Gee!  "  cried  Laveque. 

Molly  stepped  twice  directly  sideways,  planted  her 
fore  foot  on  a  root  she  had  seen,  and  pulled  sharply. 
The  end  of  the  log  slid  around  the  stump. 

"  Allez ! "  commanded  Laveque. 

And  Molly  started  gingerly  down  the  hill.  She 
pulled  the  timber,  heavy  as  an  iron  safe,  here  and 
there  through  the  brush,  missing  no  steps,  making  no 
false  moves,  backing,  and  finally  getting  out  of  the 
way  of  an  unexpected  roll  with  the  ease  and  intelli- 
gence of  Laveque  himself.  In  five  minutes  the  burden 
lay  by  the  travoy  road.  In  two  minutes  more  one  end 
of  it  had  been  rolled  on  the  little  flat  wooden  sledge 
and,  the  other  end  dragging,  it  was  winding  majes- 
tically down  through  the  ancient  forest.  The  little 
Frenchman  stood  high  on  the  forward  end.  Molly 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  13 

stepped  ahead  carefully,  with  the  strange  intelligence 
of  the  logger's  horse.  Through  the  tall,  straight,  deco- 
rative trunks  of  trees  the  little  convoy  moved  with  the 
massive  pomp  of  a  dead  warrior's  cortege.  And  little 
Fabian  Laveque,  singing,  a  midget  in  the  vastness, 
typified  the  indomitable  spirit  of  these  conquerors  of 
a  wilderness. 

When  Molly  and  Fabian  had  travoyed  the  log  to 
the  skidway,  they  drew  it  with  a  bump  across  the  two 
parallel  skids,  and  left  it  there  to  be  rolled  to  the  top 
of  the  pile. 

Then  Mike  McGovern  and  Bob  Stratton  and  Jim 
Gladys  took  charge  of  it.  Mike  and  Bob  were  run- 
ning the  cant-hooks,  while  Jim  stood  on  top  of  the 
great  pile  of  logs  already  decked.  A  slender,  pliable 
steel  chain,  like  a  gray  snake,  ran  over  the  top  of  the 
pile  and  disappeared  through  a  pulley  to  an  invisible 
horse,  —  Jenny,  the  mate  of  Molly.  Jim  threw  the  end 
of  this  chain  down.  Bob  passed  it  over  and  under  the 
log  and  returned  it  to  Jim,  who  reached  down  after  it 
with  the  hook  of  his  implement.  Thus  the  stick  of 
timber  rested  in  a  long  loop,  one  end  of  which  led  to 
the  invisible  horse,  and  the  other  Jim  made  fast  to  the 
top  of  the  pile.  He  did  so  by  jamming  into  another 
log  the  steel  swamp-hook  with  which  the  chain  was 
armed.  When  all  was  made  fast,  the  horse  started. 

"  She's  a  bumper !  "  said  Bob.    "  Look  out,  Mike !  " 

The  log  slid  to  the  foot  of  the  two  parallel  poles  laid 
slanting  up  the  face  of  the  pile.  Then  it  trembled  on 
the  ascent.  But  one  end  stuck  for  an  instant,  and  at 
once  the  log  took  on  a  dangerous  slant.  Quick  as 
light  Bob  and  Mike  sprang  forward,  gripped  the 
hooks  of  the  cant-hooks,  like  great  thumbs  and  fore- 
fingers, and,  while  one  held  with  all  his  power,  the 
other  gave  a  sharp  twist  upward.  The  log  straight- 
ened. It  was  a  master  feat  of  power,  and  the  knack 
of  applying  strength  justly. 


H 

At  the  top  of  the  little  incline,  the  timber  hovered 
for  a  second. 

"  One  more !  "  sang  out  Jim  to  the  driver.  He 
poised,  stepped  lightly  up  and  over,  and  avoided  by 
the  safe  hair's  breadth  being  crushed  when  the  log 
rolled.  But  it  did  not  lie  quite  straight  and  even.  So 
Mike  cut  a  short  thick  block,  and  all  three  stirred 
the  heavy  timber  sufficiently  to  admit  of  the  billet's 
insertion. 

Then  the  chain  was  thrown  down  for  another. 

Jenny,  harnessed  only  to  a  straight  short  bar  with 
a  hook  in  it,  leaned  to  her  collar  and  dug  in  her  hoofs 
at  the  word  of  command.  The  driver,  close  to  her 
tail,  held  fast  the  slender  steel  chain  by  an  ingenious 
hitch  about  the  ever-useful  swamp-hook.  When  Jim 
shouted  "  whoa !  "  from  the  top  of  the  skidway,  the 
•driver  did  not  trouble  to  stop  the  horse,  —  he  merely 
let  go  the  hook.  So  the  power  was  shut  off  suddenly, 
as  is  meet  and  proper  in  such  ticklish  business.  He 
turned  and  walked  back,  and  Jenny,  like  a  dog,  with- 
out the  necessity  of  command,  followed  him  in  slow 
patience. 

Now  came  Dyer,  the  sealer,  rapidly  down  the  log- 
ging road,  a  small  slender  man  with  a  little,  turned- 
ap  mustache.  The  men  disliked  him  because  of  his 
affectation  of  a  city  smartness,  and  because  he  never 
•ate  with  them,  even  when  there  was  plenty  of  room. 
iRadway  had  confidence  in  him  because  he  lived  in 
'the  same  shanty  with  him.  This  one  fact  a  good  deal 
explains  Radway's  character.  The  sealer's  duty  at 
present  was  to  measure  the  diameter  of  the  logs  in 
each  skidway,  and  so  compute  the  number  of  board 
feet.  At  the  office  he  tended  van,  kept  the  books,  and 
looked  after  supplies. 

He  approached  the  skidway  swiftly,  laid  his  flex- 
ible rule  across  the  face  of  each  log,  made  a  mark 
nan  his  pine  tablets  in  the  column  to  which  the  log 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  15 

belonged,  thrust  the  tablet  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat, 
seized  a  blue  crayon,  in  a  long  holder,  with  which 
he  made  an  8  as  indication  that  the  log  had  been 
scaled,  and  finally  tapped  several  times  strongly  with 
a  sledge  hammer.  On  the  face  of  the  hammer  in 
relief  was  an  M  inside  of  a  delta.  This  was  the  Com- 
pany's brand,  and  so  the  log  was  branded  as  belong- 
ing to  them.  He  swarmed  all  over  the  skidway,  rapid 
and  absorbed,  in  strange  contrast  of  activity  to  the 
slower  power  of  the  actual  skidding.  In  a  moment 
he  moved  on  to  the  next  scene  of  operations  without 
having  said  a  word  to  any  of  the  men. 

"A  fine  t'ing!  "  said  Mike,  spitting. 

So  day  after  day  the  work  went  on.  Radway  spent 
his  time  tramping  through  the  woods,  figuring  on  new 
work,  showing  the  men  how  to  do  things  better  or 
differently,  discussing  minute  expedients  with  the 
blacksmith,  the  carpenter,  the  cook. 

He  was  not  without  his  troubles.  First  he  had  not 
enough  men;  the  snow  lacked,  and  then  came  too 
abundantly;  horses  fell  sick  of  colic  or  caulked  them- 
selves; supplies  ran  low  unexpectedly;  trees  turned 
out  "  punk " ;  a  certain  bit  of  ground  proved  soft 
for  travoying,  and  so  on.  At  election-time,  of  course, 
a  number  of  the  men  went  out. 

And  one  evening,  two  days  after  election-time,  an- 
other and  important  character  entered  the  North 
woods  and  our  story. 


Chapter  III 


the  evening  in  question,  some  thirty  or  forty 
miles  southeast  of  Radway's  camp,  a  train  was 
crawling  over  a  badly  laid  track  which  led 
towards  the  Saginaw  Valley.  The  whole  affair  was 
very  crude.  To  the  edge  of  the  right-of-way  pushed 
the  dense  swamp,  like  a  black  curtain  shutting  the  vir- 
gin country  from  the  view  of  civilization.  Even  by 
daylight  the  sight  could  have  penetrated  but  a  few 
feet.  The  right-of-way  itself  was  rough  with  upturned 
stumps,  blackened  by  fire,  and  gouged  by  many  and 
varied  furrows.  Across  the  snow  were  tracks  of  ani- 
mals. 

The  train  consisted  of  a  string  of  freight  cars,  one 
coach  divided  half  and  half  between  baggage  and 
smoker,  and  a  day  car  occupied  by  two  silent,  awk- 
ward women  and  a  child.  In  the  smoker  lounged  a 
dozen  men.  They  were  of  various  sizes  and  descrip- 
tions, but  they  all  wore  heavy  blanket  mackinaw  coats, 
rubber  shoes,  and  thick  German  socks  tied  at  the 
knee.  This  constituted,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of  uniform. 
The  air  was  so  thick  with  smoke  that  the  men  had 
difficulty  in  distinguishing  objects  across  the  length 
of  the  car. 

The  passengers  sprawled  in  various  attitudes. 
Some  hung  their  legs  over  the  arms  of  the  seats; 
others  perched  their  feet  on  the  backs  of  the  seats  in 
front ;  still  others  slouched  in  corners,  half  reclining. 
Their  occupations  were  as  diverse.  Three  nearest  the 
baggage-room  door  attempted  to  sing,  but  without 
much  success.  A  man  in  the  corner  breathed  softly 

16 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  17 

through  a  mouth  organ,  to  the  music  of  which  his  seat 
mate,  leaning  his  head  sideways,  gave  close  attention. 
One  big  fellow  with  a  square  beard  swaggered  back 
and  forth  down  the  aisle  offering  to  everyone  refresh- 
ment from  a  quart  bottle.  It  was  rarely  refused.  Of 
the  dozen,  probably  three  quarters  were  more  or  less 
drunk. 

After  a  time  the  smoke  became  too  dense.  A  short, 
thick-set  fellow  with  an  evil  dark  face  coolly  thrust 
his  heel  through  a  window.  The  conductor,  who,  with 
the  brakeman  and  baggage  master,  was  seated  in  the 
baggage  van,  heard  the  jingle  of  glass.  He  arose. 

Guess  I'll  take  up  tickets,"  he  remarked.     "  Per- 
haps it  will  quiet  the  boys  down  a  little." 

The  conductor  was  a  big  man,  raw-boned  and 
broad,  with  a  hawk  face.  His  every  motion  showed 
lean,  quick,  panther-like  power. 

"  Let  her  went,"  replied  the  brakeman,  rising  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  follow  his  chief. 

The  brakeman  was  stocky,  short,  and  long  armed. 
In  the  old  fighting  days  Michigan  railroads  chose 
their  train  officials  with  an  eye  to  their  superior  del- 
toids. A  conductor  who  could  not  throw  an  undesir- 
able fare  through  a  car  window  lived  a  short  official 
life.  The  two  men  loomed  on  the  noisy  smoking  com- 
partment. 

"  Tickets,  please ! "  clicked  the  conductor  sharply. 

Most  of  the  men  began  to  fumble  about  in  their 
pockets,  but  the  three  singers  and  the  one  who  had 
been  offering  the  quart  bottle  did  not  stir. 

"  Ticket,  Jack !  "  repeated  the  conductor,  "  come 
on,  now." 

The  big  bearded  man  leaned  uncertainly  against  the 
seat. 

"  Now  look  here,  Bud,"  he  urged  in  wheedling 
tones,  "I  ain't  got  no  ticket.  You  know  how  it  is, 
Bud.  I  blows  my  stake."  He  fished  uncertainly  in  his 


18  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

pocket  and  produced  the  quart  bottle,  nearly  empty, 
"Have  a  drink?" 

"  No,"  said  the  conductor  sharply. 

"  A'  right,"  replied  Jack,  amiably,  "  take  one  my- 
self." He  tipped  the  bottle,  emptied  it,  and  hurled  it 
through  a  window.  The  conductor  paid  no  apparent 
attention  to  the  breaking  of  the  glass. 

"  If  you  haven't  any  ticket,  you'll  have  to  get  off," 
said  he. 

The  big  man  straightened  up. 

"  You  go  to  hell!  "  he  snorted,  and  with  the  sole  of 
his  spiked  boot  delivered  a  mighty  kick  at  the  con- 
ductor's thigh. 

The  official,  agile  as  a  wild  cat,  leaped  back,  then 
forward,  and  knocked  the  man  half  the  length  of  the 
car.  You  see,  he  was  used  to  it.  Before  Jack  could 
regain  his  feet  the  offi'cial  stood  over  him. 

The  three  men  in  the  corner  had  also  risen,  and 
were  staggering  down  the  aisle  intent  on  battle.  The 
conductor  took  in  the  chances  with  professional 
rapidity. 

"  Get  at  'em,  Jimmy,"  said  he. 

And  as  the  big  man  finally  swayed  to  his  feet,  he 
was  seized  by  the  collar  and  trousers  in  the  grip 
known  to  "  bouncers "  everywhere,  hustled  to  the 
door,  which  someone  obligingly  opened,  and  hurled 
from. the  moving  train  into  the  snow.  The  conductor 
did  not  care  a  straw  whether  the  obstreperous  Jack 
lit  on  his  head  or  his  feet,  hit  a  snowbank  or  a  pile  of 
ties.  Those  were  rough  days,  and  the  preservation 
of  authority  demanded  harsh  measures. 

Jimmy  had  got  at  'em  in  a  method  of  his  own.  He 
gathered  himself  into  a  ball  of  potential  trouble,  and 
hurled  himself  bodily  at  the  legs  of  his  opponents 
which  he  gathered  in  a  mighty  bear  hug.  It  would 
have  been  poor  fighting  had  Jimmy  to  carry  the  af- 
fair to  a  finish  by  himself,  but  considered  as  an  ex- 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  19 

pedient  to  gain  time  for  the  ejectment  proceedings,  it 
was  admirable.  The  conductor  returned  to  find  a 
kicking,  rolling,  gouging  mass  of  kinetic  energy 
knocking  the  varnish  off  all  one  end  of  the  car.  A 
head  appearing,  he  coolly  batted  it  three  times  against 
a  corner  of  the  seat  arm,  after  which  he  pulled  the  con- 
testant out  by  the  hair  and  threw  him  into  a  seat  where 
he  lay  limp.  Then  it  could  be  seen  that  Jimmy  had 
clasped  tight  in  his  embrace  a  leg  each  of  the  other 
two.  He  hugged  them  close  to  his  breast,  and 
jammed  his  face  down  against  them  to  protect  his 
features.  They  could  pound  the  top  of  his  head  and 
welcome.  The  only  thing  he  really  feared  was  a  kick 
in  the  side,  and  for  that  there  was  hardly  room. 

The  conductor  stood  over  the  heap,  at  a  manifest 
advantage. 

"  You  lumber-jacks  had  enough,  or  do  you  want 
to  catch  it  plenty?" 

The  men,  drunk  though  they  were,  realized  their 
helplessness.  They  signified  they  had  had  enough. 
Jimmy  thereupon  released  them  and  stood  up,  brush- 
ing down  his  tousled  hair  with  his  stubby  fingers. 

"  Now  is  it  ticket  or  bounce  ?  "  inquired  the  con- 
ductor. 

After  some  difficulty  and  grumbling,  the  two  paid 
their  fare  and  that  of  the  third,  who  was  still  dazed. 
In  return  the  conductor  gave  them  slips.  Then  he 
picked  his  lantern  from  the  overhead  rack  whither  he 
had  tossed  it,  slung  it  on  his  left  arm,  and  sauntered 
on  down  the  aisle  punching  tickets.  Behind  him  fol- 
lowed Jimmy.  When  he  came  to  the  door  he  swung 
across  the  platform  with  the  easy  lurch  of  the  train- 
man, and  entered  the  other  car,  where  he  took  the 
tickets  of  the  two  women  and  the  boy.  One  sitting 
in  the  second  car  would  have  been  unable  to  guess 
from  the  bearing  or  manner  of  the  two  officials  that 
anything  had  gone  wrong. 


20  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

The  interested  spectators  of  the  little  drama  in- 
cluded two  men  near  the  water-cooler  who  were  per- 
fectly sober.  One  of  them  was  perhaps  a  little  past 
the  best  of  life,  but  still  straight  and  vigorous.  His 
tean  face  was  leather-brown  in  contrast  to  a  long 
mustache  and  heavy  eyebrows  bleached  nearly  white, 
his  eyes  were  a  clear  steady  blue,  and  his  frame  was 
slender  but  wiry.  He  wore  the  regulation  mackinaw 
blanket  coat,  a  peaked  cap  with  an  extraordinarily 
high  crown,  and  buckskin  moccasins  over  long  stock- 
ings. 

The  other  was  younger,  not  more  than  twenty-six 
perhaps,  with  the  clean-cut,  regular  features  we  have 
come  to  consider  typically  American.  Eyebrows  that 
curved  far  down  along  the  temples,  and  eyelashes  of  a 
darkness  in  contrast  to  the  prevailing  note  of  his  com- 
plexion combined  to  lend  him  a  rather  brooding,  soft, 
and  melancholy  air  which  a  very  cursory  second  ex- 
amination showed  to  be  fictitious.  His  eyes,  like  the 
woodsman's,  were  steady,  but  inquiring.  His  jaw 
was  square  and  settled,  his  mouth  straight.  One 
would  be  likely  to  sum  him  up  as  a  man  whose  actions 
would  be  little  influenced  by  glamour  or  even  by  the 
sentiments.  And  yet,  equally,  it  was  difficult  to  rid 
the  mind  of  the  impression  produced  by  his  eyes. 
Unlike  the  other  inmates  of  the  car,  he  wore  an  ordi- 
nary business  suit,  somewhat  worn,  but  of  good  cut, 
and  a  style  that  showed  even  over  the  soft  flannel 
shirt.  The  trousers  were,  however,  bound  inside  the 
usual  socks  and  rubbers. 

The  two  seat  mates  had  occupied  their  time  each  in 
his  own  fashion.  To  the  elder  the  journey  was  an 
evil  to  be  endured  with  the  patience  learned  in  watch- 
ing deer  runways,  so  he  stared  straight  before  him, 
and  spat  with  a  certain  periodicity  into  the  centre  of 
the  aisle.  The  younger  stretched  back  lazily  in  an 
attitude  of  ease  which  spoke  of  the  habit  of  travelling, 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  ^\ 

Sometimes  he  smoked  a  pipe.  Thrice  he  read  over 
a  letter.  It  was  from  his  sister,  and  announced  her 
arrival  at  the  little  rural  village  in  which  he  had  made 
arrangements  for  her  to  stay.  "  It  is  interesting,  — 
now,"  she  wrote,  "  though  the  resources  do  not  look 
as  though  they  would  wear  well.  I  am  learning  under 
Mrs.  Renwick  to  sweep  and  dust  and  bake  and  stew 
and  do  a  multitude  of  other  things  which  I  always 
vaguely  supposed  came  ready-made.  I  like  it;  but 
after  I  have  learned  it  all,  I  do  not  believe  the  prac- 
tise will  appeal  to  me  much.  However,  I  can  stand  it 
well  enough  for  a  year  or  two  or  three,  for  I  am 
young ;  and  then  you  will  have  made  your  everlasting 
fortune,  of  course." 

Harry  Thorpe  experienced  a  glow  of  pride  each 
time  he  read  this  part  of  the  letter.  He  liked  the 
frankness  of  the  lack  of  pretence;  he  admired  the 
penetration  and  self-analysis  which  had  taught  her  the 
truth  that,  although  learning  a  new  thing  is  always 
interesting,  the  practising  of  an  old  one  is  monoto- 
nous. And  her  pluck  appealed  to  him.  It  is  not  easy 
for  a  girl  to  step  from  the  position  of  mistress  of  ser- 
vants to  that  of  helping  about  the  housework  of  a 
small  family  in  a  small  town  for  the  sake  of  the  home 
to  be  found  in  it. 

"  She's  a  trump !  "  said  Thorpe  to  himself,  "  and  she 
shall  have  her  everlasting  fortune,  if  there's  such  a 
thing  in  the  country." 

He  jingled  the  three  dollars  and  sixty  cents  in  his 
pocket,  and  smiled.  That  was  the  extent  of  his  ever- 
lasting fortune  at  present. 

The  letter  had  been  answered  from  Detroit. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  settled,"  he  wrote.  "  At  least 
I  know  you  have  enough  to  eat  and  a  roof  over  you. 
I  hope  sincerely  that  you  will  do  your  best  to  fit  your- 
self to  your  new  conditions.  I  know  it  is  hard,  but 
with  my  lack  of  experience  and  my  ignorance  as  to 


22  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

where  to  take  hold,  it  may  be  a  good  many  years 
before  we  can  do  any  better." 

When  Helen  Thorpe  read  this,  she  cried.  Things 
had  gone  wrong  that  morning,  and  an  encouraging 
word  would  have  helped  her.  The  somber  tone  of  her 
brother's  communication  threw  her  into  a  fit  of  the 
blues  from  which,  for  the  first  time,  she  saw  her  sur- 
roundings in  a  depressing  and  distasteful  light.  And 
yet  he  had  written  as  he  did  with  the  kindest  possible 
motives. 

Thorpe  had  the  misfortune  to  be  one  of  those  indi- 
viduals who,  though  careless  of  what  people  in  gen- 
eral may  think  of  them,  are  in  a  corresponding  degree 
sensitive  to  the  opinion  of  the  few  they  love.  This 
feeling  was  further  exaggerated  by  a  constitutional 
shrinking  from  any  outward  manifestation  of  the  emo- 
tions. As  a  natural  result,  he  was  often  thought  in- 
different or  discouraging  when  in  reality  his  natural 
affections  were  at  their  liveliest.  A  failure  to  procure 
for  a  friend  certain  favors  or  pleasures  dejected  him, 
not  only  because  of  that  friend's  disappointment,  but 
because,  also,  he  imagined  the  failure  earned  him  a 
certain  blame.  Blame  from  his  heart's  intimates  he 
shrank  from.  His  life  outside  the  inner  circles  of  his 
affections  was  apt  to  be  so  militant  and  so  divorced 
from  considerations  of  amity,  that  as  a  matter  of 
natural  reaction  he  became  inclined  to  exaggerate  the 
importance  of  small  objections,  little  reproaches, 
slight  criticisms  from  his  real  friends.  Such  criticisms 
seemed  to  bring  into  a  sphere  he  would  have  liked  to 
keep  solely  for  the  mutual  reliance  of  loving  kindness, 
sorrething  of  the  hard  utilitarianism  of  the  world  at 
large.  In  consequence  he  gradually  came  to  choose 
the  line  of  least  resistance,  to  avoid  instinctively  even 
the  slightly  disagreeable.  Perhaps  for  this  reason  he 
was  never  entirely  sincere  with  those  he  loved.  He 
never  gave  assent  to,  manifested  approval  of,  or 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  23 

showed  enthusiasm  over  any  plan  suggested  by  them, 
for  the  reason  that  he  never  dared  offer  a  merely  prob- 
lematical anticipation.  The  affair  had  to  be  abso- 
lutely certain  in  his  own  mind  before  he  ventured  to 
admit  anyone  to  the  pleasure  of  looking  forward  to 
it,  —  and  simply  because  he  so  feared  the  disappoint- 
ment in  case  anything  should  go  wrong.  He  did  not 
realize  that  not  only  is  the  pleasure  of  anticipation 
often  the  best,  but  that  even  disappointment,  provided 
it  happen  through  excusable  causes,  strengthens  the 
bonds  of  affection  through  sympathy.  We  do  not 
want  merely  results  from  a  friend,  —  merely  finished 
products.  We  like  to  be  in  at  the  making,  even 
though  the  product  spoil. 

This  unfortunate  tendency,  together  with  his  re- 
serve, lent  him  the  false  attitude  of  a  rather  cold,  self- 
centered  man,  discouraging  suggestions  at  first  only 
to  adopt  them  later  in  the  most  inexplicable  fashion, 
and  conferring  favors  in  a  ready-made  impersonal 
manner  which  destroyed  utterly  their  quality  as  favors. 
In  reality  his  heart  hungered  for  the  affection  which 
this  false  attitude  generally  repelled.  He  threw  the 
wet  blanket  of  doubt  over  warm  young  enthusiasms 
because  his  mind  worked  with  a  certain  deliberateness 
which  did  not  at  once  permit  him  to  see  the  prac- 
ticability of  the  scheme.  Later  he  would  approve. 
But  by  that  time,  probably,  the  wet  blanket  had  ef- 
fectually extinguished  the  glow.  You  cannot  always 
savor  your  pleasures  cold. 

So  after  the  disgrace  of  his  father,  Harry  Thorpe 
did  a  great  deal  of  thinking  and  planning  which  he 
kept  carefully  to  himself.  He  considered  in  turn  the 
different  occupations  to  which  he  could  turn  his  hand, 
and  negatived  them  one  by  one.  Few  business  firms 
would  care  to  employ  the  son  of  as  shrewd  an  embez- 
zler as  Henry  Thorpe.  Finally  he  came  to  a  decision. 
He  communicated  this  decision  to  his  sister.  It  would 


24  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

have  commended  itself  more  logically  to  her  had  she 
been  able  to  follow  step  by  step  the  considerations  that 
.had  led  her  brother  to  it.  As  the  event  turned,  she 
was  forced  to  accept  it  blindly.  She  knew  that  her 
brother  intended  going  West,  but  as  to  his  hopes  and 
plans  she  was  in  ignorance.  A  little  sympathy,  a  lit- 
tle mutual  understanding  would  have  meant  a  great 
deal  to  her,  for  a  girl  whose  mother  she  but  dimly  re- 
members, turns  naturally  to  her  next  of  kin.  Helen 
Thorpe  had  always  admired  her  brother,  but  had 
never  before  needed  him.  She  had  looked  upon  him 
as  strong,  self-contained,  a  little  moody.  Now  the 
-toae  of  his  letter  caused  her  to  wonder  whether  he 
were  not  also  a  trifle  hard  and  cold.  So  she  wept  on 
receiving  it,  and  the  tears  watered  the  ground  for  dis- 
content. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  row  in  the  smoking  car, 
Thorpe  laid  aside  his  letter  and  watched  with  keen 
.appreciation  the  direct  practicality  of  the  trainmen's 
method.  When  the  bearded  man  fell  before  the 
•conductor's  blow,  he  turned  to  the  individual  at 
his  side. 

"  He  knows  how  to  hit,  doesn't  he  1 "  he  observed. 
**  That  fellow  was  knocked  well  off  his  feet." 

"  He  does,"  agreed  the  other  dryly. 

They  fell  into  a  desultory  conversation  of  fits  and 
•starts.  Woodsmen  of  the  genuine  sort  are  never  talka- 
tive ;  and  Thorpe,  as  has  been  explained,  was  consti- 
tutionally reticent.  In  the  course  of  their  disjointed 
remarks  Thorpe  explained  that  he  was  looking  for 
work  in  the  woods,  and  intended,  first  of  all,  to  try 
the  Morrison  &  Daly  camps  at  Beeson  Lake. 

"  Know  anything  about  logging  ? "  inquired  the 
stranger. 

"  Nothing,"  Thorpe  confessed. 

"  Ain't  much  show  for  anything  but 
"What  did  you  think  of  doing?  " 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  25 

w  I  don't  know,"  sard  Thorpe,  doubtfully.  "  I  have 
driven  horses  a  good  deal;  I  thought  I  might  drive 
team." 

The  woodsman  turned  slowly  and  looked  Thorpe 
over  with  a  quizzical  eye.  Then  he  faced  to  the  front 
again  and  spat. 

"  Quite  like,"  he  replied  still  more  dryly. 

The  boy's  remark  had  amused  him,  and  he  had 
showed  it,  as  much  as  he  ever  showed  anything.  Ex- 
cepting always  the  riverman,  the  driver  of  a  team 
commands  the  highest  wages  among  out-of-door 
workers.  He  has  to  be  able  to  guide  his  horses  by  lit- 
tle steps  over,  through,  and  around  slippery  and  brist- 
ling difficulties.  He  must  acquire  the  knack  of  facing 
them  square  about  in  their  tracks.  He  must  hold 
them  under  a  control  that  will  throw  into  their  col- 
lars, at  command,  from  five  pounds  to  their  full  power 
of  pull,  lasting  from  five  seconds  to  five  minutes.  And 
above  all,  he  must  be  able  to  keep  them  out  of  the 
way  of  tremendous  loads  of  logs  on  a  road  which  con- 
stant sprinkling  has  rendered  smooth  and  glassy,  at 
the  same  time  preventing  the  long  tongue  from 
sweeping  them  bodily  against  leg-breaking  debris 
when  a  curve  in  the  road  is  reached.  It  is  easier  to 
drive  a  fire  engine  than  a  logging  team. 

But  in  spite  of  the  naivete  of  the  remark,  the  woods- 
man had  seen  something  in  Thorpe  he  liked.  Such 
men  become  rather  expert  in  the  reading  of  character, 
and  often  in  a  log  shanty  you  will  hear  opinions  of  a 
shrewdness  to  surprise  you.  He  revised  his  first  in- 
tention to  let  the  conversation  drop. 

"  I  think  M.  &  D.  is  rather  full  up  just  now,"  he 
remarked.  "  I'm  walkin'-boss  there.  The  roads  is 
about  all  made,  and  road-making  is  what  a  green- 
horn tackles  first.  They's  more  chance  earlier  in  the 
year.  But  if  the  Old  Fellow  "  (he  strongly  accented 
the  first  word)  "  h'aint  nothin'  for  you,  just  ask  for 


26  THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

Tim  Shearer,  an'  I'll  try  to  put  you  on  the  trail  for 
some  jobber's  camp." 

The  whistle  of  the  locomotive  blew,  and  the  conduc- 
tor appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Where's  that  fellow's  turkey?  "  he  inquired. 

Several  men  looked  toward  Thorpe,  who,  not  under- 
standing this  argot  of  the  camps,  was  a  little  bewil- 
dered. Shearer  reached  over  his  head  and  took  from 
the  rack  a  heavy  canvas  bag,  which  he  handed  to  the 
conductor. 

"That's  the  'turkey'  — "  he  explained,  "his  war 
bag.  Bud'll  throw  it  off  at  Scott's,  and  Jack'll  get  it 
there." 

"  How  far  back  is  he  ?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  About  ten  mile.    He'll  hoof  it  in  all  right." 

A  number  of  men  descended  at  Scott's.  The  three 
who  had  come  into  collision  with  Jimmy  and  Bud 
were  getting  noisier.  They  had  produced  a  stone  jug, 
and  had  collected  the  remainder  of  the  passengers,  — 
with  the  exception  of  Shearer  and  Thorpe,  —  and  now 
were  passing  the  jug  rapidly  from  hand  to  hand. 
Soon  they  became  musical,  striking  up  one  of  the 
weird  long-drawn-out  chants  so  popular  with  the 
shanty  boy.  Thorpe  shrewdly  guessed  his  compan- 
ion to  be  a  man  of  weight,  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
ascribe  his  immunity  from  annoyance  to  the  other's 
presence. 

"  It's  a  bad  thing,"  said  the  walking-boss,  "  I  used 
to  be  at  it  myself,  and  I  know.  When  I  wanted 
whisky,  I  needed  it  worse  than  a  scalded  pup  does  a 
snow  bank.  The  first  year  I  had  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  and  I  blew  her  all  in  six  days.  Next  year  I 
had  a  little  more,  but  she  lasted  me  three  weeks.  That 
was  better.  Next  year,  I  says  to  myself,  I'll  just  save 
fifty  of  that  stake,  and  blow  the  rest.  So  I  did.  After 
that  I  got  to  be  sealer,  and  sort've  quit.  I  just  made 
a  deal  with  the  Old  Fellow  to  leave  my  stake  with 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  27 

headquarters  no  matter  whether  I  call  for  it  or  not. 
I  got  quite  a  lot  coming,  now." 

"  Bees'n  Lake!"  cried  Jimmy  fiercely  through  an 
aperture  of  the  door. 

"  You'll  find  th'  boardin'-house  just  across  over  the 
track,"  said  the  woodsman,  holding  out  his  hand,  "  so , 
long.    See  you  again  if  you  don't  find  a  job  with  the 
Old  Fellow.    My  name's  Shearer." 

"Mine  is  Thorpe,"  replied  the  other.  "Thank 
you." 

The  woodsman  stepped  forward  past  the  carousers 
to  the  baggage  compartment,  where  he  disappeared. 
The  revellers  stumbled  out  the  other  door. 

Thorpe  followed  and  found  himself  on  the  frozen 
platform  of  a  little  dark  railway  station.  As  he 
walked,  the  boards  shrieked  under  his  feet  and  the 
sharp  air  nipped  at  his  face  and  caught  his  lungs.  Be- 
yond the  fence-rail  protection  to  the  side  of  the  plat- 
form he  thought  he  saw  the  suggestion  of  a  broad 
reach  of  snow,  a  distant  lurking  forest,  a  few  shadowy 
buildings  looming  mysterious  in  the  night.  The  air 
was  twinkling  with  frost  and  the  brilliant  stars  of  the 
north  country. 

Directly  across  the  track  from  the  railway  station, 
a  single  building  was  pricked  from  the  dark  by  a  soli- 
tary lamp  in  a  lower-story  room.  The  four  who  had 
descended  before  Thorpe  made  over  toward  this 
light,  stumbling  and  laughing  uncertainly,  so  he  knew 
it  was  probably  in  the  boarding-house,  and  prepared 
to  follow  them.  Shearer  and  the  station  agent,  —  an 
individual  much  muffled,  —  turned  to  the  disposition 
of  some  light  freight  that  had  been  dropped  from  the 
baggage  car. 

The  five  were  met  at  the  steps  by  the  proprietor  of 
the  boarding-house.  This  man  was  short  and  stout, 
with  a  harelip  and  cleft  palate,  which  at  once  gave 
him  the  well-known  slurring  speech  of  persons  so 


28  THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

afflicted,  and  imparted  also  to  the  timbre  of  his  voice 
a  peculiarly  hollow,  resonant,  trumpet-like  note.  He 
stumped  about  energetically  on  a  wooden  leg  of  home 
manufacture.  It  was  a  cumbersome  instrument, 
heavy,  with  deep  pine  socket  for  the  stump,  and  a 
projecting  brace  which  passed  under  a  leather  belf 
around  the  man's  waist.  This  instrument  he  used 
with  the  dexterity  of  a  third  hand.  As  Thorpe  watched 
him,  he  drove  in  a  projecting  nail,  kicked  two 
"  turkeys "  dexterously  inside  the  open  door,  and 
stuck  the  armed  end  of  his  peg-leg  through  the  top 
and  bottom  of  the  whisky  jug  that  one  of  the  new  ar- 
rivals had  set  down  near  the  door.  The  whisky 
promptly  ran  out.  At  this  the  cripple  flirted  the  im- 
paled jug  from  the  wooden  leg  far  out  over  the  rail 
of  the  verandah  into  the  snow. 

A  growl  went  up. 

"  What'n  hell's  that  for !  "  snarled  one  of  the  owners 
of  the  whisky  threateningly. 

"  Don't  allow  no  whisky  here,"  snuffed  the  harelip. 

The  men  were  very  angry.  They  advanced  toward 
the  cripple,  who  retreated  with  astonishing  agility  to 
the  lighted  room.  There  he  bent  the  wooden  leg  be- 
hind him,  slipped  the  end  of  the  brace  from  beneath 
the  leather  belt,  seized  the  other,  peg  end  in  his  right 
hand,  and  so  became  possessed  of  a  murderous  bludg- 
eon. This  he  brandished,  hopping  at  the  same  time 
back  and  forth  in  such  perfect  poise  and  yet  with  so 
ludicrous  an  effect  of  popping  corn,  that  the  men  were 
surprised  into  laughing. 

"  Bully  for  you,  peg-leg !  "  they  cried. 

"  Rules  'n  regerlations,  boys,"  replied  the  latter, 
without,  however,  a  shade  of  compromising  in  his 
tones.  "  Had  supper?  " 

On  receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirmative,  he  caught 
up  the  lamp,  and,  having  resumed  his  artificial  leg  in 
one  deft  motion,  led  the  way  to  narrow  little  rooms. 


Chapter  IV 


rHORPE  was  awakened  a  long  time  before 
daylight  by  the  ringing  of  a  noisy  bell.     He 
dressed,  shivering,  and  stumbled  down  stairs 
to  a  round  stove,  big  as  a  boiler,  into  which  the  cripple 
dumped  huge  logs  of  wood  from  time  to  time.    After 
breakfast  Thorpe  returned  to  this  stove  and  sat  half 
dozing  for  what  seemed  to  him  untold  ages.    The  cold 
of  the  north  country  was  initiating  him. 

Men  came  in,  smoked  a  brief  pipe,  and  went  ouf.- 
Shearer  was  one  of  them.  The  woodsman  nodded; 
curtly  to  the  young  man,  his  cordiality  quite  gone, 
Thorpe  vaguely  wondered  why.  After  a  time  he  him- 
self put  on  his  overcoat  and  ventured  out  into  the 
town.  It  seemed  to  Thorpe  a  meager  affair,  built  of 
lumber,  mostly  unpainted,  with  always  the  dark,  men- 
acing fringe  of  the  forest  behind.  The  great  saw 
mill,  with  its  tall  stacks  and  its  row  of  water-barrels 
—  protection  against  fire  —  on  top,  was  the  dominant 
note.  Near  the  mill  crouched  a  little  red-painted 
structure  from  whose  stovepipe  a  column  of  white 
smoke  rose,  attesting  the  cold,  a  clear  hundred  feet 
straight  upward,  and  to  whose  door  a  number  of  men* 
were  directing  their  steps  through  the  snow.  Over 
the  door  Thorpe  could  distinguish  the  word  "  Office." 
He  followed  and  entered. 

In  a  narrow  aisle  railed  off  from  the  main  part  of 
the  room  waited  Thorpe's  companions  of  the  night 
before.  The  remainder  of  the  office  gave  accommo- 
dation to  three  clerks.  One  of  these  glanced  up  in- 
quiringly as  Thorpe  came  in. 

"  I  am  looking  for  work,"  said  Thorpe. 
29 


30  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  Wait  there,"  briefly  commanded  the  clerk. 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  of  the  inner  room 
opened,  and  Shearer  came  out.  A  man's  head  peered 
from  within. 

"  Come  on,  boys,"  said  he. 

The  five  applicants  shuffled  through.  Thorpe  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  a  man  whom  he  felt  to  be 
the  natural  leader  of  these  wild,  independent  spirits. 
He  was  already  a  little  past  middle  life,  and  his  form 
had  lost  the  elastic  vigor  of  youth.  But  his  eye  was 
keen,  clear,  and  wrinkled  to  a  certain  dry  facetious- 
ness  ;  and  his  figure  was  of  that  bulk  which  gives  an 
impression  of  a  subtler  weight  and  power  than  the 
merely  physical.  This  peculiarity  impresses  us  in 
the  portraits  of  such  men  as  Daniel  Webster  and 
others  of  the  old  jurists.  The  manner  of  the  man 
was  easy,  good-natured,  perhaps  a  little  facetious,  but 
these  qualities  were  worn  rather  as  garments  than 
exhibited  as  characteristics.  He  could  afford  them, 
not  because  he  had  fewer  difficulties  to  overcome  or 
battles  to  fight  than  another,  but  because  his  strength 
was  so  sufficient  to  them  that  mere  battles  or  diffi- 
culties could  not  affect  the  deliberateness  of  his  hu- 
mor. You  felt  his  superiority  even  when  he  was  most 
comradely  with  you.  This  man  Thorpe  was  to  meet 
under  other  conditions,  wherein  the  steel  hand  would 
more  plainly  clink  the  metal. 

He  was  now  seated  in  a  worn  office  chair  before  a 
littered  desk.  In  the  close  air  hung  the  smell  of  stale 
cigars  and  the  clear  fragrance  of  pine. 

"  What  is  it,  Dennis  ?  "  he  asked  the  first  of  the 
men. 

"  I've  been  out,"  replied  the  lumberman.  "  Have 
you  got  anything  for  me,  Mr.  Daly  ?  " 

The  mill-owner  laughed. 

"  I  guess  so.  Report  to  Shearer.  Did  you  vote  for 
the  right  man,  Denny  ?  " 


"THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  31 

The  lumberman  grinned  sheepishly.  "  I  don't 
know,  sir.  I  didn't  get  that  far." 

"  Better  let  it  alone.  I  suppose  you  and  Bill  want 
to  come  back,  too  ?  "  he  added,  turning  to  the  next 
two  in  the  line.  "  All  right,  report  to  Tim.  Do  you 
want  work?  "  he  inquired  of  the  last  of  the  quartette,' 
a  big  bashful  man  with  the  shoulders  of  a  Hercules.  • 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  latter  uncomfortably. 

"What  do  you  do?" 

"  I'm  a  cant-hook  man,  sir." 

"  Where  have  you  worked  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  job  with  Morgan  &  Stebbins  on  the  Gear 
River  last  winter." 

"  All  right,  we  need  cant-hook  men.  Report  at 
'  seven,'  and  if  they  don't  want  you  there,  go  to  '  thir- 
teen.' " 

Daly  looked  directly  at  the  man  with  an  air  of 
finality.  The  lumberman  still  lingered  uneasily,  twist- 
ing his  cap  in  his  hands. 

"  Anything  you  want  ?  "  asked  Daly  at  last. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  blurted  the  big  man.  "  If  I  come  down 
here  and  tell  you  I  want  three  days  off  and  fifty  dol- 
lars to  bury  my  mother,  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  to  go  to 
hell!  I  buried  her  three  times  last  winter  1" 

Daly  chuckled  a  little. 

"  All  right,  Bub,"  said  he,  "  to  hell  it  is." 

The  man  went  out.  Daly  turned  to  Thorpe  with 
the  last  flickers  of  amusement  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  he  inquired  in  a  little 
crisper  tones.  Thorpe  felt  that  he  was  not  treated 
with  the  same  careless  familiarity,  because,  potentiv 
ally,  he  might  be  more  of  a  force  to  deal  with.  He 
underwent,  too,  the  man's  keen  scrutiny,  and  knew 
that,  every  detail  of  his  appearance  had  found  its  com- 
ment in  the  other's  experienced  brain. 

"  I  am  looking  for  work,"  Thorpe  replied 

"What  kind  of  work?" 


32  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"Any  kind,  so  I  can  learn  something  about  the 
lumber  business." 

The  older  man  studied  him  keenly  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. 

"  Have  you  had  any  other  business  experience  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing?  " 

"  Nothing." 

The  lumberman's  eyes  hardened. 

"  We  are  a  very  busy  firm  here,"  he  said  with  a 
certain  deliberation ;  "  we  do  not  carry  a  big  force  of 
men  in  any  one  department,  and  each  of  those  men 
has  to  fill  his  place  and  slop  some  over  the  sides.  We 
do  not  pretend  or  attempt  to  teach  here.  If  you  want 
to  be  a  lumberman,  you  must  learn  the  lumber  busi- 
ness more  directly  than  through  the  windows  of  a 
bookkeeper's  office.  Go  into  the  woods.  Learn  a 
few  first  principles.  Find  out  the  difference  between 
Norway  and  white  pine,  anyway." 

Daly,  being  what  is  termed  a  self-made  man,  en- 
tertained a  prejudice  against  youths  of  the  leisure 
class.  He  did  not  believe  in  their  earnestness  of  pur- 
pose, their  capacity  for  knowledge,  nor  their  perse- 
verance in  anything.  That  a  man  of  twenty-six 
should  be  looking  for  his  first  situation  was  incom- 
prehensible to  him.  He  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
his  prejudice,  because  the  class  to  which  the  young 
man  had  belonged  enjoyed  his  hearty  contempt. 

The  truth  is,  he  had  taken  Thorpe's  ignorance  a 
little  too  much  for  granted.  Before  leaving  his  home, 
and  while  the  project  of  emigration  was  still  in  the 
air,  the  young  fellow  had,  with  the  quiet  enthusiasm 
of  men  of  his  habit  of  mind,  applied  himself  to  the 
mastering  of  whatever  the  books  could  teach.  That 
is  not  much.  The  literature  on  lumbering  seems  to 
be  singularly  limited.  Still  he  knew  the  trees,  and 
had  sketched  an  outline  into  which  to  paint  expert- 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  33 


ence.  He  said  nothing  of  this  to  the  man  before 
because  of  that  strange  streak  in  his  nature  which 
prompted  him  to  conceal  what  he  felt  most  strongly  ; 
to  leave  to  others  the  task  of  guessing  out  his  atti- 
tude ;  to  stand  on  appearances  without  attempting  to 
justify  them,  no  matter  how  simple  the  justification 
might  be.  A  moment's  frank,  straightforward  talk 
might  have  caught  Daly's  attention,  for  the  lumber- 
man was,  after  all,  a  shrewd  reader  of  character  where 
his  prejudices  were  not  concerned.  Then  events 
would  have  turned  out  very  differently. 

After  his  speech  the  business  man  had  whirled  back 
to  his  desk. 

"  Have  you  anything  for  me  to  do  in  the  woods, 
then?  "  the  other  asked  quietly. 

"  No,"  said  Daly  over  his  shoulder. 

Thorpe  went  out. 

Before  leaving  Detroit  he  had,  on  the  advice  of 
friends,  visited  the  city  office  of  Morrison  &  Daly. 
There  he  had  been  told  positively  that  the  firm  were 
hiring  men.  Now,  without  five  dollars  in  his  pocket, 
he  made  the  elementary  discovery  that  even  in  chop- 
ping wood  skilled  labor  counts.  He  did  not  know 
where  to  turn  next,  and  he  would  not  have  had  the 
money  to  go  far  in  any  case.  So,  although  Shearer's 
brusque  greeting  that  morning  had  argued  a  lack  of 
cordiality,  he  resolved  to  remind  the  riverman  of  his 
promised  assistance. 

That  noon  he  carried  out  his  resolve.  To  his  sur- 
prise Shearer  was  cordial  —  in  his  way.  He  came 
afterward  to  appreciate  the  subtle  nuances  of  manner 
and  treatment  by  which  a  boss  retains  his  moral  su- 
premacy in  a  lumber  country,  —  repels  that  too  great 
familiarity  which  breeds  contempt,  without  imperil- 
ing the  trust  and  comradeship  which  breeds  will- 
ingness. In  the  morning  Thorpe  had  been  a  pros- 
pective employee  of  the  firm,  and  so  a  possible 


34  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

subordinate  of  Shearer  himself.  Now  he  was  Shearer's 
equal. 

"  Go  up  and  tackle  Radway.  He's  jobbing  for  us 
on  the  Cass  Branch.  He  needs  men  for  roadin',  I 
know,  because  he's  behind.  You'll  get  a  job  there," 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Ten  miles  from  here.  She's  blazed,  but  you  bet- 
ter wait  for  th'  supply  team,  Friday.  If  you  try  to 
make  her  yourself,  you'll  get  lost  on  some  of  th  old 
loggin'  roads." 

Thorpe  considered. 

"  I'm  busted,"  he  said  at  last  frankly. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  replied  the  walking-boss. 
"  Marshall,  come  here !  " 

The  peg-legged  boarding-house  keeper  stumped  in. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  trumpeted  snufflingly. 

"  This  boy  wants  a  job  till  Friday.  Then  he's  go- 
ing up  to  Radway's  with  the  supply  team.  Now  quit 
your  hollerin'  for  a  chore-boy  for  a  few  days." 

"  All  right,"  snorted  Marshall,  "  take  that  ax  and 
split  some  dry  wood  that  you'll  find  behind  th'  house.** 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  began  Thorpe  to 
the  walking-boss,  "  and " 

"That's  all  right,"  interrupted  the  latter,  "  some 
day  you  can  give  me  a  job." 


Chapter  V 


FT^OR  five  days  Thorpe  cut  wood,  made  fires, 
rj  drew  water,  swept  floors,  and  ran  errands. 
M.  Sometimes  he  would  look  across  the  broad 
stump-dotted  plain  to  the  distant  forest.  He  had 
imagination.  No  business  man  succeeds  without  it. 
With  him  the  great  struggle  to  wrest  from  an  impass- 
ive and  aloof  nature  what  she  has  so  long  held  secure- 
ly as  her  own,  took  on  the  proportions  of  a  battle. 
The  distant  forest  was  the  front.  To  it  went  the  new 
bands  of  fighters.  From  it  came  the  caissons  for  food, 
that  ammunition  of  the  frontier ;  messengers  bringing 
tidings  of  defeat  or  victory;  sometimes  men  groan- 
ing on  their  litters  from  the  twisting  and  crushing  and 
breaking  inflicted  on  them  by  the  calm,  ruthless  en- 
emy ;  once  a  dead  man  bearing  still  on  his  chest  the 
mark  of  the  tree  that  had  killed  him.  Here  at  head- 
quarters sat  the  general,  map  in  hand,  issuing  his 
orders,  directing  his  forces. 

And  out  of  the  forest  came  mystery.  Hunters 
brought  deer  on  sledges.  Indians,  observant  and 
grave,  swung  silently  across  the  reaches  on  their 
snowshoes,  and  silently  back  again  carrying  their  mea- 
ger purchases.  In  the  daytime  ravens  wheeled  and 
croaked  about  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  bearing  the 
shadow  of  the  woods  on  their  plumes  and  of  the 
north-wind  in  the  somber  quality  of  their  voices ;  rare 
eagles  wheeled  gracefully  to  and  fro;  snow  squalls 
coquetted  with  the  landscape.  At  night  the  many 
creatures  of  the  forest  ventured  out  across  the  plains 
in  search  of  food,  • —  weasels ;  big  white  hares ;  deer, 

35 


36  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

planting  daintily  their  little  sharp  hoofs  where  the 
frozen  turnips  were  most  plentiful;  porcupines  in 
quest  of  anything  they  could  get  their  keen  teeth  in- 
to;—  and  often  the  big  timber  wolves  would  send 
shivering  across  the  waste  a  long  whining  howl.  And 
in  the  morning  their  tracks  would  embroider  the  snow 
with  many  stories. 

The  talk  about  the  great  stove  in  the  boarding- 
house  office  also  possessed  the  charm  of  balsam  fra- 
grance. One  told  the  other  occult  facts  about  the 
"  Southeast  of  the  southwest  of  eight."  The  second 
in  turn  vouchsafed  information  about  another  point  of 
the  compass.  Thorpe  heard  of  many  curious  practical 
expedients.  He  learned  that  one  can  prevent  awk- 
ward air-holes  in  lakes  by  "  tapping  "  the  ice  with  an 
ax,  —  for  the  air  must  get  out,  naturally  or  artifici- 
ally ;  that  the  top  log  on  a  load  should  not  be  large 
because  of  the  probability,  when  one  side  has  dumped 
with  a  rush,  of  its  falling  straight  down  from  its  orig- 
inal height,  so  breaking  the  sleigh;  that  a  thin  slice 
of  salt  pork  well  peppered  is  good  when  tied  about 
a  sore  throat;  that  choking  a  horse  will  cause  him 
to  swell  up  and  float  on  the  top  of  the  water,  thus 
rendering  it  easy  to  slide  him  out  on  the  ice  from 
a  hole  he  may  have  broken  into;  that  a  tree  lodged 
against  another  may  be  brought  to  the  ground  by 
felling  a  third  against  it,  that  snowshoes  made  of 
caribou  hide  do  not  become  baggy,  because  caribou 
shrinks  when  wet,  whereas  other  rawhide  stretches. 
These,  and  many  other  things  too  complicated  to 
elaborate  here,  he  heard  discussed  by  expert  opinion. 
Gradually  he  acquired  an  enthusiasm  for  the  woods, 
just  as  a  boy  conceives  a  longing  for  the  out-of-door 
life  of  which  he  hears  in  the  conversation  of  his  elders 
about  the  winter  fire.  He  became  eager  to  get  away 
to  the  front,  to  stand  among  the  pines,  to  grapple  with 
the  difficulties  of  thicket,  hill,  snow,  and  cold  that 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  37 

nature  silently  interposes  between  the  man  and  his 
task. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  he  received  four  dollars  from 
his  employer ;  dumped  his  valise  into  a  low  bobsleigh 
driven  by  a  man  muffled  in  a  fur  coat;  assisted  in 
loading  the  sleigh  with  a  variety  of  things,  from 
Spearhead  plug  to  raisins ;  and  turned  his  face  at  last 
toward  the  land  of  his  hopes  and  desires. 

The  long  drive  t  >  camp  was  at  once  a  delight  and  a 
misery  to  him.  Its  miles  stretched  longer  and  longer 
as  time  went  on;  and  the  miles  of  a  route  new  to  a 
man  are  always  one  and  a  half  at  least.  The  forest, 
so  mysterious  and  inviting  from  afar,  drew  within 
itself  coldly  when  Thorpe  entered  it.  He  was  as  yet  a 
stranger.  The  snow  became  the  prevailing  note.  The 
white  was  everywhere,  concealing  jealously  beneath 
rounded  uniformity  the  secrets  of  the  woods.  And 
it  was  cold.  First  Thorpe's  feet  became  numb,  then 
his  hands,  then  his  nose  was  nipped,  and  finally  his 
warm  clothes  were  lifted  from  him  by  invisible  hands, 
and  he  was  left  naked  to  shivers  and  tremblings.  He 
found  it  torture  to  sit  still  on  the  top  of  the  bale  of 
hay;  and  yet  he  could  not  bear  to  contemplate  the 
cold  shock  of  jumping  from  the  sleigh  to  the  ground, 
—  of  touching  foot  to  the  chilling  snow.  The  driver 
pulled  up  to  breathe  his  horses  at  the  top  of  a  hill, 
and  to  fasten  under  one  runner  a  heavy  chain,  which, 
grinding  into  the  snow,  would  act  as  a  brake  on  the 
descent. 

"  You're  dressed  pretty  light,"  he  advised ;  "  better 
hoof  it  a  ways  and  get  warm." 

The  words  tipped  the  balance  of  Thorpe's  decision. 
He  descended  stiffly,  conscious  of  a  disagreeable 
shock  from  a  six-inch  jump. 

In  ten  minutes,  the  wallowing,  slipping,  and  leap- 
ing after  the  tail  of  the  sled  had  sent  his  blood  ting- 
ling to  the  last  of  his  protesting  members.  Cold  with- 


38  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

drew.  He  saw  now  that  the  pines  were  beautiful  and 
solemn  and  still ;  and  that  in  the  temple  of  their  col- 
umns dwelt  winter  enthroned.  Across  the  carpet  of 
the  snow  wandered  the  trails  of  her  creatures,  —  the 
stately  regular  prints  of  the  partridge;  the  series  of 
pairs  made  by  the  squirrel;  those  of  the  weasel  and 
mink,  just  like  the  squirrels'  except  that  the  prints 
were  not  quite  side  by  side,  and  that  between  every 
other  pair  stretched  the  mark  of  the  animal's  long, 
slender  body ;  the  delicate  tracery  of  the  deer  mouse ; 
the  fan  of  the  rabbit ;  the  print  of  a  baby's  hand  that 
the  raccoon  left;  the  broad  pad  of  a  lynx;  the  dog- 
like  trail  of  wolves ;  —  these,  and  a  dozen  others,  all 
equally  unknown,  gave  Thorpe  the  impression  of  a 
great  mysterious  multitude  of  living  things  which 
moved  about  him  invisible.  In  a  thicket  of  cedar  and 
scrub  willow  near  the  bed  of  a  stream,  he  encoun- 
tered one  of  those  strangely  assorted  bands  of  woods- 
creatures  which  are  always  cruising  it  through  the 
country.  He  heard  the  cheerful  little  chickadee ;  he 
saw  the  grave  nuthatch  with  its  appearance  of  a  total 
lack  of  humor ;  he  glimpsed  a  black-and-white  wood- 
pecker or  so,  and  was  reviled  by  a  ribald  blue  jay.  Al- 
ready the  wilderness  was  taking  its  character  to  him. 

After  a  little  while,  they  arrived  by  way  of  a  hill, 
over  which  they  plunged  into  the  middle  of  the  camp. 
Thorpe  saw  three  large  buildings,  backed  end  to 
end,  and  two  smaller  ones,  all  built  of  heavy  logs, 
roofed  with  plank,  and  lighted  sparsely  through  one 
or  two  windows  apiece.  The  driver  pulled  up  opposite 
the  space  between  two  of  the  larger  buildings,  and  be- 
gan to  unload  his  provisions.  Thorpe  set  about  aid- 
ing him,  and  so  found  himself  for  the  first  time  in  a 
"  cook  camp." 

It  was  a  commodious  building,  —  Thorpe  had  no 
idea  a  log  structure  ever  contained  so  much  room. 
One  end  furnished  space  for  two  cooking  ranges  and 


two  bunks  placed  one  over  the  other.  Along  one  sidfr 
ran  a  broad  table-shelf,  with  other  shelves  over  it  and 
numerous  barrels  underneath,  all  filled  with  cans, 
loaves  of  bread,  cookies,  and  pies.  The  center  was 
occupied  by  four  long  bench-flanked  tables,  down 
whose  middle  straggled  utensils  containing  sugar, 
apple-butter,  condiments,  and  sauces,  and  whose 
edges  were  set  with  tin  dishes  for  about  forty  men. 
The  cook,  a  rather  thin-faced  man  with  a  mustache, 
directed  where  the  provisions  were  to  be  stowed ;  and 
the  "  cookee,"  a  hulking  youth,  assisted  Thorpe  and 
the  driver  to  carry  them  in.  During  the  course  of 
the  work  Thorpe  made  a  mistake. 

"  That  stuff  doesn't  come  here,"  objected  the 
cookee,  indicating  a  box  of  tobacco  the  newcomer 
was  carrying.  "  She  goes  to  the  *  van.'  " 

Thorpe  did  not  know  what  the  "  van  "  might  be, 
but  he  replaced  the  tobacco  on  the  sleigh.  In  a  few 
moments  the  task  was  finished,  with  the  exception 
of  a  half  dozen  other  cases,  which  the  driver  desig- 
nated as  also  for  the  "  van."  The  horses  were  un- 
hitched, and  stabled  in  the  third  of  the  big  log  build- 
ings. The  driver  indicated  the  second. 

"  Better  go  into  the  men's  camp  and  sit  down  'till 
th'  boss  gets  in,"  he  advised. 

Thorpe  entered  a  dim,  over-heated  structure,  lined 
on  two  sides  by  a  double  tier  of  large  bunks  parti- 
tioned from  one  another  like  cabins  of  boats,  and  cen- 
tered by  a  huge  stove  over  which  hung  slender  poles. 
The  latter  were  to  dry  clothes  on.  Just  outside  the 
bunks  ran  a  straight  hard  bench.  Thorpe  stood  at  the 
entrance  trying  to  accustom  his  eyes  to  the  dimness. 

"  Set  down,"  said  a  voice,  "  on  th'  floor  if  you  want 
to;  but  I'd  prefer  th'  deacon  seat." 

Thorpe  obediently  took  position  on  the  bench,  or 
"deacon  seat."     His  eyes,  more  used  to  the  light/ 
could  make  out  a  thin,  tall,  bent  old  man,  with  bare 


40  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

cranium,  two  visible  teeth,  and  a  three  days'  stubble 
of  white  beard  over  his  meager,  twisted  face. 

He  caught,  perhaps,  Thorpe's  surprised  expression. 

"You  think  th'  old  man's  no  good,  do  you?"  he 
cackled,  without  the  slightest  malice,  "  looks  is  de- 
ceivin' !  "  He  sprang  up  swiftly,  seized  the  toe  of  his 
right  foot  in  his  left  hand,  and  jumped  his  left  foot 
through  the  loop  thus  formed.  Then  he  sat  down 
again,  and  laughed  at  Thorpe's  astonishment. 

"  Old  Jackson's  still  purty  smart,"  said  he.  "  I'm 
barn-boss.  They  ain't  a  man  in  th'  country  knows 
as  much  about  hosses  as  I  do.  We  ain't  had  but  two 
sicV  this  fall,  an'  between  you  an'  me,  they's  a  skate 
lot.  You're  a  greenhorn,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  confessed  Thorpe. 

"  Well,"  said  Jackson,  reflectively  but  rapidly,  "  Le 
Fabian,  he's  quiet  but  bad;  and  O'Grady,  he  talks 
loud  but  you  can  bluff  him ;  and  Perry,  he's  only  bad 
when  he  gets  full  of  red  likker ;  and  Norton  he's  bad 
when  he  gets  mad  like,  and  will  use  axes." 

Thorpe  did  not  know  he  was  getting  valuable  points 
on  the  camp  bullies.  The  old  man  hitched  nearer  and 
peered  in  his  face. 

"  They  don't  bluff  you  a  bit,"  he  said,  "  unless  you 
likes  them,  and  then  they  can  back  you  way  off  the 
skidway." 

Thorpe  smiled  at  the  old  fellow's  volubility.  He 
did  not  know  how  near  to  the  truth  the  woodsman's 
shrewdness  had  hit ;  for  to  himself,  as  to  most  strong 
characters,  his  peculiarities  were  the  normal,  and 
therefore  the  unnoticed.  His  habit  of  thought  in  re- 
spect to  other  people  was  rather  objective  than  sub- 
jective. He  inquired  so  impersonally  the  significance 
of  whatever  was  before  him,  that  it  lost  the  human 
quality  both  as  to  itself  and  himself.  To  him  men 
were  things.  This  attitude  relieved  him  of  self-con- 
sciousness. He  never  bothered  his  head  as  to  what 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  41 

the  other  man  thought  of  him,  his  ignorance,  or  his 
awkwardness,  simply  because  to  him  the  other  man 
was  nothing  but  an  element  in  his  problem.  So  in 
such  circumstances  he  learned  fast.  Once  introduce 
the  human  element,  however,  and  his  absurdly  sensi- 
tive self-consciousness  asserted  itself.  He  was,  as 
Jackson  expressed  it,  backed  off  the  skidway. 

At  dark  the  old  man  lit  two  lamps,  which  served 
dimly  to  gloze  the  shadows,  and  thrust  logs  of  wood 
into  the  cast-iron  stove.  Soon  after,  the  men  came  in. 
They  were  a  queer,  mixed  lot.  Some  carried  the  in- 
disputable stamp  of  the  frontiersman  in  their  bear- 
ing and  glance ;  others  looked  to  be  mere  day-labor- 
ers, capable  of  performing  whatever  task  they  were 
set  to,  and  of  finding  the  trail  home  again.  There 
were  active,  clean-built,  precise  Frenchmen,  with 
small  hands  and  feet,  and  a  peculiarly  trim  way  of 
wearing  their  rough  garments;  typical  native-born 
American  lumber-jacks  powerful  in  frame,  rakish  in 
air,  reckless  in  manner;  big  blonde  Scandinavians  and 
Swedes,  strong  men  at  the  sawing;  an  Indian  or  so, 
strangely  in  contrast  to  the  rest ;  and  a  variety  of  Irish- 
men, Englishmen,  and  Canadians.  These  men  tramped 
in  without  a  word,  and  set  busily  to  work  at  various 
tasks.  Some  sat  on  the  "  deacon  seat  "  and  began  to 
take  off  their  socks  and  rubbers;  others  washed  at  a 
little  wooden  sink;  still  others  selected  and  lit  lanterns 
from  a  pendant  row  near  the  window,  and  followed  old 
Jackson  out  of  doors.  They  were  the  teamsters. 

"  You'll  find  the  old  man  in  the  office,"  said  Jack- 
son. 

Thorpe  made  his  way  across  to  the  small  log  cabin 
indicated  as  the  office,  and  pushed  open  the  door. 
He  found  himself  in  a  little  room  containing  two 
bunks,  a  stove,  a  counter  and  desk,  and  a  number  of 
shelves  full  of  supplies.  About  the  walls  hung  fire- 
arms, snowshoes,  and  a  variety  of  clothes. 


42  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

A  man  sat  at  the  desk  placing  figures  on  a  sheet  of 
paper.  He  obtained  the  figures  from  statistics  pen- 
cilled on  three  thin  leaves  of  beech-wood  riveted  to- 
gether. In  a  chair  by  the  stove  lounged  a  bulkier 
figure,  which  Thorpe  concluded  to  be  that  of  the 
"old  man." 

"  I  was  sent  here  by  Shearer,"  said  Thorpe  directly ; 
"he  said  you  might  give  me  some  work." 

So  long  a  silence  fell  that  the  applicant  began  to 
wonder  if  his  question  had  been  heard. 

"  I  might,"  replied  the  man  drily  at  last. 

"  Well,  will  you  ?  "  Thorpe  inquired,  the  humor  of 
the  situation  overcoming  him. 

"  Have  you  ever  worked  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"  No." 
x  The  man  smoked  silently. 

"  I'll  put  you  on  the  road  in  the  morning,"  he  con- 
cluded, as  though  this  were  the  deciding  qualification. 

One  of  the  men  entered  abruptly  and  approached 
the  counter.  The  writer  at  the  desk  laid  aside  his 
tablets. 

"  What  is  it,  Albert?"  he  added. 

"  Jot  of  chewin',"  was  the  reply. 

The  sealer  took  from  the  shelf  a  long  plug  of  to- 
bacco and  cut  off  two  inches. 

"  Ain't  hitting  the  van  much,  are  you,  Albert  ?  "  he 
commented,  putting  the  man's  name  and  the  amount 
in  a  little  book.  Thorpe  went  out,  after  leaving  his 
name  for  the  time  book,  enlightened  as  to  the  method 
of  obtaining  supplies.  He  promised  himself  some 
warm  clothing  from  the  van,  when  he  should  have 
worked  out  the  necessary  credit. 

At  supper  he  learned  something  else,  —  that  he 
must  not  talk  at  table.  A  moment's  reflection  taught 
him  the  common-sense  of  the  rule.  For  one  thing, 
supper  was  a  much  briefer  affair  than  it  would  have 
been  had  every  man  felt  privileged  to  take  his  will  ia 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  43 

conversation;  not  to  speak  of  the  absence  of  noise 
and  the  presence  of  peace.  Each  man  asked  for  what 
he  wanted. 

"  Please  pass  the  beans,"  he  said  with  the  deliberate 
intonation  of  a  man  who  does  not  expect  that  his  re- 
quest will  be  granted. 

Besides  the  beans  were  fried  salt  pork,  boiled  pota- 
toes, canned  corn,  mince  pie,  a  variety  of  cookies  and 
doughnuts,  and  strong  green  tea.  Thorpe  found  him- 
self eating  ravenously  of  the  crude  fare. 

That  evening  he  underwent  a  catechism,  a  few  prac- 
tical jokes,  which  he  took  good-naturedly,  and  a  vast 
deal  of  chaffing.  At  nine  the  lights  were  all  out.  By 
daylight  he  and  a  dozen  other  men  were  at  work,  hew- 
ing a  road  that  had  to  be  as  smooth  and  level  as  a 
New  York  boulevard. 


Chapter  VI 


rHORPE  and  four  others  were  set  to  work  on 
this  road,  which  was  to  be  cut  through  a  creek 
bottom  leading,  he  was  told,  to  "  seventeen." 
The  figures  meant  nothing  to  him.    Later,  each  num- 
ber came  to  possess  an  individuality  of  its  own.     He 
learned  to  use  a  double-bitted  ax. 

Thorpe's  intelligence  was  of  the  practical  sort  that 
wonderfully  helps  experience.  He  watched  closely 
one  of  the  older  men,  and  analyzed  the  relation  borne 
by  each  one  of  his  movements  to  the  object  in  view. 
In  a  short  time  he  perceived  that  one  hand  and  arm 
are  mere  continuations  of  the  helve,  attaching  the 
blade  of  the  ax  to  the  shoulder  of  the  wielder;  and 
that  the  other  hand  directs  the  stroke.  He  acquired 
the  knack  thus  of  throwing  the  bit  of  steel  into  the 
gash  as  though  it  were  a  baseball  on  the  end  of  a 
string;  and  so  accomplished  power.  By  experiment 
he  learned  just  when  to  slide  the  guiding  hand  down 
the  helve ;  and  so  gained  accuracy.  He  suffered  none 
of  those  accidents  so  common  to  new  choppers.  His 
ax  did  not  twist  itself  from  his  hands,  nor  glance  to 
cut  his  foot.  He  attained  the  method  of  the  double 
bit,  and  how  to  knock  roots  by  alternate  employment 
of  the  edge  and  flat.  In  a  few  days  his  hands  became 
hard  and  used  to  the  cold. 

From  shortly  after  daylight  he  worked.  Four 
other  men  bore  him  company,  and  twice  Radway  him- 
self came  by,  watched  their  operations  for  a  moment, 
and  moved  on  without  comment.  After  Thorpe  had 
caught  his  second  wind,  he  enjoyed  his  task,  proving 

44 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  45 

a  certain  pleasure  in  the  ease  with  which  he  handled 
his  tool. 

At  the  end  of  an  interminable  period,  a  faint,  mu- 
sical halloo  swelled,  echoed,  and  died  through  the 
forest,  beautiful  as  a  spirit.  It  was  taken  up  by  an- 
other voice  and  repeated.  Then  by  another.  Now 
near  at  hand,  now  far  away  it  rang  as  hollow  as  a 
bell.  The  sawyers,  the  swampers,  the  skidders,  and 
the  team  men  turned  and  put  on  their  heavy  blanket 
coats. 

Down  on  the  road  Thorpe  heard  it  too,  and  won- 
dered what  it  might  be. 

"  Come  on,  Bub !  she  means  chew !  "  explained  old 
man  Heath  kindly.  Old  man  Heath  was  a  veteran 
woodsman  who  had  come  to  swamping  in  his  old  age. 
He  knew  the  game  thoroughly,  but  could  never  save 
his  "  stake "  when  Pat  McGinnis,  the  saloon  man, 
enticed  him  in.  Throughout  the  morning  he  had 
kept  an  eye  on  the  newcomer,  and  was  secretly  pleased 
in  his  heart  of  the  professional  at  the  readiness  with 
which  the  young  fellow  learned. 

Thorpe  resumed  his  coat,  and  fell  in  behind  the  lit- 
tle procession.  After  a  short  time  he  came  upon  a 
horse  and  sledge.  Beyond  it  the  cookee  had  built  a 
little  camp  fire,  around  and  over  which  he  had 
grouped  big  fifty-pound  lard-tins,  half  full  of  hot 
things  to  eat.  Each  man,  as  he  approached,  picked 
up  a  tin  plate  and  cup  from  a  pile  near  at  hand. 

The  cookee  was  plainly  master  of  the  situation.  He. 
issued  peremptory  orders.  When  Erickson,  the 
blonde  Swede,  attempted  surreptitiously  to  appropri- 
ate a  doughnut,  the  youth  turned  on  him  savagely. 

"  Get  out  of  that,  you  big  tow-head !  "  he  cried  with 

V  *  ,1 

an  oath. 

A  dozen  Canada  jays,  fluffy,  impatient,  perched 
near  by  or  made  little  short  circles  over  and  back. 
They  awaited  the  remains  of  the  dinner.  Bob  Stratton 


46  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

and  a  devil-may-care  giant  by  the  name  of  Nolan  con- 
structed a  joke  wherewith  to  amuse  the  interim.  They 
cut  a  long  pole,  and  placed  it  across  a  log  and  through 
a  bush,  so  that  one  extremity  projected  beyond  the 
bush.  Then  diplomacy  won  a  piece  of  meat  from  the 
cookee.  This  they  nailed  to  the  end  of  the  pole  by 
means  of  a  pine  sliver.  The  Canada  jays  gazed  on 
the  morsel  with  covetous  eyes.  When  the  men  had 
retired,  they  swooped.  One  big  fellow  arrived  first, 
and  lit  in  defiance  of  the  rest. 

"  Give  it  to  'im ! "  whispered  Nolan,  who  had  been 
watching. 

Bob  hit  the  other  end  of  the  pole  a  mighty  whack 
with  his  ax.  The  astonished  jay,  projected  straight 
upward  by  the  shock,  gave  a  startled  squawk  and 
cut  a  hole  through  the  air  for  the  tall  timber.  Strat- 
ton  and  Nolan  went  into  convulsions  of  laughter. 

"  Get  at  it !  "  cried  the  cookee,  as  though  setting  a 
pack  of  dogs  on  their  prey. 

The  men  ate,  perched  in  various  attitudes  and 
places.  Thorpe  found  it  difficult  to  keep  warm.  The 
violent  exercise  had  heated  him  through,  and  now 
the  north  country  cold  penetrated  to  his  bones.  He 
huddled  close  to  the  fire,  and  drank  hot  tea,  but  it 
did  not  do  him  very  much  good.  In  his  secret  mind 
he  resolved  to  buy  one  of  the  blanket  mackinaws  that 
very  evening.  He  began  to  see  that  the  costumes  of 
each  country  have  their  origin  in  practicality 

That  evening  he  picked  out  one  of  the  best.  As  he 
was  about  to  inquire  the  price,  Radway  drew  the  van 
book  toward  him,  inquiring, 

"  Let's  see  ;  what's  the  name  ?  " 

In  an  instant  Thorpe  was  charged  on  the  book  with 
three  dollars  and  a  half,  although  his  work  that  day 
had  earned  him  less  than  a  dollar.  On  his  way  back 
to  the  men's  shanty  he  could  not  help  thinking  how 
easy  it  would  be  for  him  to  leave  the  next  morning 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  47 

two  dollars  and  a  half  ahead.     He  wondered  if  this 
method  of  procedure  obtained  in  all  the  camps. 

The  newcomer's  first  day  of  hard  work  had  tired 
him  completely.  He  was  ready  for  nothing  so  much 
as  his  bunk.  But  he  had  forgotten  that  it  was  Satur- 
day night.  His  status  was  still  to  assure. 

They  began  with  a  few  mild  tricks.  Shuffle  the 
Brogan  followed  Hot  Back.  Thorpe  took  all  of  it 
good-naturedly.  Finally  a  tall  individual  with  a  thin 
white  face,  a  reptilian  forehead,  reddish  hair,  and  long 
baboon  arms,  suggested  tossing  in  a  blanket.  Thorpe 
looked  at  the  low  ceiling,  and  declined. 

"  I'm  with  the  game  as  long  as  you  say,  boys,"  said 
he,  "  and  I'll  have  as  much  fun  as  anybody,  but  that's 
going  too  far  for  a  tired  man." 

The  reptilian  gentleman  let  out  a  string  of  oaths 
whose  meaning  might  be  translated,  "  We'll  see  about 
that ! " 

Thorpe  was  a  good  boxer,  but  he  knew  by  now  the 
lumber  jack's  method  of  fighting,  —  anything  to 
hurt  the  other  fellow.  And  in  a  genuine  old-fashioned 
knock-down-and-drag-out  rough-and-tumble  your 
woodsman  is  about  the  toughest  customer  to  handle 
you  will  Ce  likely  to  meet.  He  is  brought  up  on  fight- 
ing. Nothing  pleases  him  better  than  to  get  drunk 
and,  with  a  few  companions,  to  embark  on  an  earnest 
effort  to  "  clean  out  "  a  rival  town.  And  he  will  accept 
cheerfully  punishment  enough  to  kill  three  ordinary 
men.  It  takes  one  of  his  kind  really  to  hurt  him. 

Thorpe,  at  the  first  hostile  movement,  sprang  back 
to  the  door,  seized  one  of  the  three-foot  billets  of  hard- 
wood intended  for  the  stove,  and  faced  his  opponents. 

"  I  don't  know  which  of  you  boys  is  coming  first,"  • 
said  he  quietly,  "  but  he's  going  to  get  it  good  and 
plenty."  ], 

If  the  affair  had  been  serious,  these  men  would 
never  have  recoiled  before  the  mere  danger  of  a  stick 


48  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

of  hardwood.  The  American  woodsman  is  afraid  of 
nothing  human.  But  this  was  a  good-natured  bit  of 
foolery,  a  test  of  nerve,  and  there  was  no  object  in 
getting  a  broken  head  for  that.  The  reptilian  gentle- 
man alone  grumbled  at  the  abandonment  of  the  at- 
tack, mumbling  something  profane. 

"  If  you  hanker  for  trouble  so  much,"  drawled  the 
unexpected  voice  of  old  Jackson  from  the  corner, 
"  mebbe  you  could  put  on  th'  gloves." 

The  idea  was  acclaimed.  Somebody  tossed  out  a 
dirty  torn  old  set  of  buckskin  boxing  gloves. 

The  rest  was  farce.  Thorpe  was  built  on  the  true 
athletic  lines,  broad,  straight  shoulders,  narrow 
flanks,  long,  clean,  smooth  muscles.  He  possessed, 
besides,  that  hereditary  toughness  and  bulk  which  no 
gymnasium  training  will  ever  quite  supply.  The 
other  man,  while  powerful  and  ugly  in  his  rushes,  was 
clumsy  and  did  not  use  his  head.  Thorpe  planted  his 
hard  straight  blows  at  will.  In  this  game  he  was  as 
manifestly  superior  as  his  opponent  would  probably 
have  been  had  the  rules  permitted  kicking,  gouging, 
and  wrestling.  Finally  he  saw  his  opening  and  let 
out  with  a  swinging  pivot  blow.  The  ol  '  picked 
himself  out  of  a  corner,  and  drew  off  ^.  gloves. 
Thorpe's  status  was  assured. 

A  Frenchman  took  down  his  fiddle  and  began  to 
squeak.  In  the  course  of  the  dance  old  Jackson  and 
old  Heath  found  themselves  together,  smoking  their 
pipes  of  Peerless. 

"  The  young  feller's  all  right,"  observed  Heath ; 
"  he  cuffed  Ben  up  to  a  peak  all  right." 

"  Went  down  like  a  peck  of  wet  fish-nets,"  repjied 
Jackson  tranquilly. 


Chapter  VII 


/N  the  office  shanty  one  evening  about  a  week  later, 
Radway  and  his  sealer  happened  to  be  talking 
over  the  situation.  The  sealer,  whose  name  was 
Dyer,  slouched  back  in  the  shadow,  watching  his 
great  honest  superior  as  a  crafty,  dainty  cat  might 
watch  the  blunderings  of  a  St.  Bernard.  When  he 
spoke,  it  was  with  a  mockery  so  subtle  as  quite  to 
escape  the  perceptions  of  the  lumberman.  Dyer  had 
a  precise  little  black  mustache  whose  ends  he  was  con- 
stantly twisting  into  points,  black  eyebrows,  and  long 
effeminate  black  lashes.  You  would  have  expected 
his  dress  in  the  city  to  be  just  a  trifle  flashy,  not 
enough  so  to  be  loud,  but  sinning  as  to  the  trifles  of 
good  taste.  The  two  men  conversed  in  short  elliptical 
sentences,  using  many  technical  terms. 

"  That  '  seventeen  '  white  pine  is  going  to  under- 
run,"  said  Dyer.  "  It  won't  skid  over  three  hundred 
thousand." 

"  It's  small  stuff,"  agreed  Radway,  "  and  so  much 
the  worse  for  us ;  but  the  Company'll  stand  in  on  it 
because  small  stuff  like  that  always  over-runs  on  the 
mill-cut." 

The  sealer  nodded  comprehension. 

"  When  you  going  to  dray-haul  that  Norway  across 
Pike  Lake?" 

"  To-morrow.  She's  springy,  but  the  books  say  five 
inches  of  ice  will  hold  a  team,  and  there's  more  than 
that.  How  much  are  we  putting  in  a  day,  now  ?  " 

"  About  forty  thousand." 

49 


50  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Radway  fell  silent. 

"  That's  mighty  little  for  such  a  crew,"  he  observed 
at  last,  doubtfully. 

"  I  always  said  you  were  too  easy  with  them.  You 
got  to  drive  them  more." 

,      "  Well,  it's  a  rough  country,"  apologized  Radway, 
f  trying,  as  was  his  custom,  to  find  excuses  for  the  other 
party  as  soon  as  he  was  agreed  with  in  his  blame, 
I  "  there's  any  amount  of  potholes ;    and,  then,  we've 
had  so  much  snow  the  ground  ain't  really  froze  under- 
neath.   It  gets  pretty  soft  in  some  of  them  swamps. 
Can't  figure  on  putting  up  as  much  in  this  country 
as  we  used  to  down  on  the  Muskegon." 

The  sealer  smiled  a  thin  smile  all  to  himself  behind 
the  stove.  Big  John  Radway  depended  so  much  on 
the  moral  effect  of  approval  or  disapproval  by  those 
with  whom  he  lived.  It  amused  Dyer  to  withhold  the 
timely  word,  so  leaving  the  jobber  to  flounder  be- 
tween his  easy  nature  and  his  sense  of  what  should 
be  done. 

Dyer  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  work  was  behind, 
and  he  knew  the  reason.  For  some  time  the  men 
had  been  relaxing  their  efforts.  They  had  worked 
honestly  enough,  but  a  certain  snap  and  vim  had 
lacked.  This  was  because  Radway  had  been  too  easy 
on  them. 

Your  true  lumber-jack  adores  of  all  things  in  crea- 
tion a  man  whom  he  feels  to  be  stronger  than  him- 
self. If  his  employer  is  big  enough  to  drive  him,  then 
he  is  willing  to  be  driven  to  the  last  ounce  of  his 
strength.  But  once  he  gets  the  notion  that  his 
"  boss  "  is  afraid  of,  or  for,  him  or  his  feelings  or  his 
health,  he  loses  interest  in  working  for  that  man.  So 
a  little  effort  to  lighten  or  expedite  his  work,  a  little 
leniency  in  excusing  the  dilatory  finishing  of  a  job, 
a  little  easing-up  under  stress  of  weather,  are  taken 
as  so  many  indications  of  a  desire  to  conciliate.  And 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  51 

conciliation  means  weakness  every  time.  Your  lum- 
ber-jack likes  to  be  met  front  to  front,  one  strong 
man  to  another.  As  you  value  your  authority,  the 
love  of  your  men,  and  the  completion  of  your  work, 
keep  a  bluff  brow  and  an  unbending  singleness  of 
purpose. 

Radway's  peculiar  temperament  rendered  htm 
liable  to  just  this  mistake.  It  was  so  much  easier  for 
him  to  do  the  thing  himself  than  to  be  harsh  to  the 
point  of  forcing  another  to  it,  that  he  was  inclined  to 
take  the  line  of  least  resistance  when  it  came  to  a 
question  of  even  ordinary  diligence.  He  sought  often 
in  his  own  mind  excuses  for  dereliction  in  favor  of  a 
man  who  would  not  have  dreamed  of  seeking  them 
for  himself.  A  good  many  people  would  call  this 
kindness  of  heart.  Perhaps  it  was ;  the  question  is  a 
little  puzzling.  But  the  facts  were  as  stated. 

Thorpe  had  already  commented  on  the  feeling 
among  the  men,  though,  owing  to  his  inexperience, 
he  was  not  able  to  estimate  its  full  value.  The  men 
were  inclined  to  a  semi-apologetic  air  when  they 
spoke  of  their  connection  with  the  camp.  Instead  of 
being  honored  as  one  of  a  series  of  jobs,  this  seemed 
to  be  considered  as  merely  a  temporary  halting-place 
in  which  they  took  no  pride,  and  from  which  they 
looked  forward  in  anticipation  or  back  in  memory  to 
better  things. 

"  Old  Shearer,  he's  the  bully  boy,"  said  Bob  Strat- 
ton.  "  I  remember  when  he  was  foreman  for  M.  & 
D.  at  Camp  O.  Say,  we  did  hustle  them  saw-logs  in ! 
I  should  rise  to  remark!  Out  in  th'  woods  by  first 
streak  o'  day.  I  recall  one  mornin'  she  was  pretty 
cold,  an'  the  boys  grumbled  some  about  turnin'  out. 
'  Cold,'  says  Tim,  '  you  sons  of  guns !  You  got  your 
ch'ice.  It  may  be  too  cold  for  you  in  the  woods,  but 
it's  a  damm  sight  too  hot  fer  you  in  hell,  an'  you're 
going  to  one  or  the  other  1 '  And  he  meant  it  too, 


52  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Them  was  great  days !  Forty  million  a  year,  and  not 
a  hitch." 

One  man  said  nothing  in  the  general  discussion. 
It  was  his  first  winter  in  the  woods,  and  plainly  in 
the  eyes  of  the  veterans  this  experience  did  not  count. 
It  was  a  faute  de  mieux,  in  which  one  would  give  an 
honest  day's  work,  and  no  more. 

As  has  been  hinted,  even  the  inexperienced  new- 
comer noticed  the  lack  of  enthusiasm,  of  unity.  Had 
he  known  the  loyalty,  devotion,  and  adoration  that  a 
thoroughly  competent  man  wins  from  his  "  hands," 
the  state  of  affairs  would  have  seemed  even  more  sur- 
prising. The  lumber-jack  will  work  sixteen,  eigh- 
teen hours  a  day,  sometimes  up  to  the  waist  in  water 
full  of  floating  ice ;  sleep  wet  on  the  ground  by  a  lit- 
tle fire ;  and  then  next  morning  will  spring  to  work 
at  daylight  with  an  "  Oh,  no,  not  tired ;  just  a  little 
itiff,  sir!  "  in  cheerful  reply  to  his  master's  inquiry, 

—  for  the  right  man  !    Only  it  must  be  a  strong  man, 

—  with  the  strength  of  the  wilderness  in  his  eye. 
The  next  morning  Radway  transferred  Molly  and 

Jenny,  with  little  Fabian  Laveque  and  two  of  the 
younger  men,  to  Pike  Lake.  There,  earlier  in  the  sea- 
son, a  number  of  pines  had  been  felled  out  on  the 
ice,  cut  in  logs,  and  left  in  expectation  of  ice  thick 
enough  to  bear  the  travoy  "  dray."  Owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  shores  of  Pike  Lake  were  extremely  pre- 
cipitous, it  had  been  impossible  to  travoy  the  logs  up 
over  the  hill. 

Radway  had  sounded  carefully  the  thickness  of  the 
ice  with  an  ax.  Although  the  weather  had  of  late 
been  sufficiently  cold  for  the  time  of  year,  the  snow, 
as  often  happens,  had  fallen  before  the  temperature. 
Under  the  warm  white  blanket,  the  actual  freezing 
had  been  slight.  However,  there  seemed  to  be  at  least 
eight  inches  of  clear  ice,  which  would  suffice. 

Some  of  the  logs  in  question  were  found  to  be  half 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  53 

imbedded  in  the  ice.  It  became  necessary  first  of  all 
to  free  them.  Young  Henrys  cut  a  strong  bar  six  or 
eight  feet  long,  while  Pat  McGuire  chopped  a  hole 
alongside  the  log.  Then  one  end  of  the  bar  was  thrust 
into  the  hole,  the  logging  chain  fastened  to  the  other ; 
and,  behold,  a  monster  lever,  whose  fulcrum  was  the 
ice  and  whose  power  was  applied  by  Molly,  hitched 
to  the  end  of  the  chain.  In  this  simple  manner  a 
task  was  accomplished  in  five  minutes  which  would 
have  taken  a  dozen  men  an  hour.  When  the  log  had 
been  cat-a-cornered  from  its  bed,  the  chain  was  fas- 
tened around  one  end  by  means  of  the  ever-useful 
steel  swamp-hook,  and  it  was  yanked  across  the  dray. 
Then  the  travoy  took  its  careful  way  across  the  ice 
to  where  a  dip  in  the  shore  gave  access  to  a  skidway. 

Four  logs  had  thus  been  safely  hauled.  The  fifth 
was  on  its  journey  across  the  lake.  Suddenly  without 
warning,  and  with  scarcely  a  sound,  both  horses  sank 
through  the  ice,  which  bubbled  up  around  them  and 
over  their  backs  in  irregular  rotted  pieces.  Little 
Fabian  Laveque  shouted,  and  jumped  down  from  his 
log.  Pat  McGuire  and  young  Henrys  came  running. 

The  horses  had  broken  through  an  air-hole,  about 
which  the  ice  was  strong.  Fabian  had  already  seized 
Molly  by  the  bit,  and  was  holding  her  head  easily 
above  water. 

"  Kitch  Jenny  by  dat  he't !  "  he  cried  to  Pat. 

Thus  the  two  men,  without  exertion,  sustained  the 
noses  of  the  team  above  the  surface.  The  position 
demanded  absolutely  no  haste,  for  it  could  have  been 
maintained  for  a  good  half  hour.  Molly  and  Jenny, 
their  soft  eyes  full  of  the  intelligence  of  the  situation, 
rested  easily  in  full  confidence.  But  Pat  and  Henrys, 
new  to  this  sort  of  emergency,  were  badly  frightened 
and  excited.  To  them  the  affair  had  come  to  a  dead- 
lock. 

"  Oh,  Lord ! "  cried  Pat,  clinging  desperately  to 


54  ^HE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Jenny's  headpiece.  "  What  will  we'z  be  doin'  ?  We 
can't  niver  haul  them  two  horses  on  the  ice." 

"  Tak'  de  log-chain,"  said  Fabian  to  Henrys,  "  an' 
tie  him  around  de  nee'  of  Jenny." 

Henrys,  after  much  difficulty  and  nervous  fumbling, 
managed  to  loosen  the  swamp-hook ;  and  after  much 
more  difficulty  and  nervous  fumbling  succeeded  in 
making  it  fast  about  the  gray  mare's  neck.  Fabian 
intended  with  this  to  choke  the  animal  to  that  pe- 
culiar state  when  she  would  float  like  a  balloon  on  the 
water,  and  two  men  could  with  ease  draw  her  over 
the  edge  of  the  ice.  Then  the  unexpected  happened. 

The  instant  Henrys  had  passed  the  end  of  the  chain 
through  the  knot,  Pat,  possessed  by  some  Hibernian 
notion  that  now  all  was  fast,  let  go  of  the  bit.  Jenny's 
head  at  once  went  under,  and  the  end  of  the  logging 
chain  glided  over  the  ice  and  fell  plump  in  the  hole. 

Immediately  all  was  confusion.  Jenny  kicked  and 
struggled,  churning  the  water,  throwing  it  about, 
kicking  out  in  every  direction.  Once  a  horse's  head 
dips  strongly,  the  game  is  over.  No  animal  drowns 
more  quickly.  The  two  young  boys  scrambled  away, 
and  French  oaths  could  not  induce  them  to  approach. 
Molly,  still  upheld  by  Fabian,  looked  at  him  piteously 
with  her  strange  intelligent  eyes,  holding  herself  mo- 
tionless and  rigid  with  complete  confidence  in  this 
master  who  had  never  failed  her  before.  Fabian  dug 
his  heels  into  the  ice,  but  could  not  hang  on.  The 
drowning  horse  was  more  than  a  dead  weight.  Pres- 
ently it  became  a  question  of  letting  go  or  being 
dragged  into  the  lake  on  top  of  the  animals.  With  a 
sob  the  little  Frenchman  relinquished  his  hold.  The 
water  seemed  slowly  to  rise  and  over-film  the  troubled 
look  of  pleading  in  Molly's  eyes. 

"  Assassins ! "  hissed  Laveque  at  the  two  unfortu- 
nate youths.  That  was  all. 

When  the  surface  of  the  waters  had  again  mirrored 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  55 

the  clouds,  they  hauled  the  carcasses  out  on  the  ice 
and  stripped  the  harness.  Then  they  rolled  the  log 
from  the  dray,  piled  the  tools  on  it,  and  took  their  way 
to  camp.  In  the  blue  of  the  winter's  sky  was  a  single 
speck. 

The  speck  grew.  Soon  it  swooped.  With  a  hoarse 
CToak  it  lit  on  the  snow  at  a  wary  distance,  and  began 
to  strut  back  and  forth.  Presently,  its  suspicions  at 
rest,  the  raven  advanced,  and  with  eager  beak  began 
its  dreadful  meal.  By  this  time  another,  which  had 
seen  the  first  one's  swoop,  was  in  view  through  the 
ether;  then  another;  then  another.  In  an  hour  the 
brotherhood  of  ravens,  thus  telegraphically  notified, 
was  at  feast. 


Chapter  VIII 


JTHABIAN  LAVEQUE  elaborated  the  details  of 
rj     the  catastrophe  with  volubility. 
Jt  "Hee's  not  fonny  dat  she  bre'ks  t'rough,"  he 

said.  "  I  'ave  see  dem  bre'k  t'rough  two,  t'ree  tarn 
in  de  day,  but  nevaire  dat  she  get  drown  I  Wen  dose 
dam-fool  can't  t'ink  wit'  hees  haid  —  sacrt  Dieu!  eet 
is  so  easy,  to  chok'  dat  cheval  —  she  make  me  cry 
wit'  de  eye!  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  a  good  deal  my  fault,"  com- 
mented Radway,  doubtfully  shaking  his  head,  after 
Laveque  had  left  the  office.  "  I  ought  to  have  been 
surer  about  the  ice." 

"  Eight  inches  is  a  little  light,  with  so  much  snow 
atop,"  remarked  the  sealer  carelessly. 

By  virtue  of  that  same  careless  remark,  however, 
Radway  was  so  confirmed  in  his  belief  as  to  his  own 
culpability  that  he  quite  overlooked  Fabian's  just 
contention  —  that  the  mere  thinness  of  the  ice  was 
in  reality  no  excuse  for  the  losing  of  the  horses.  So 
Pat  and  Henrys  were  not  discharged  —  were  not  in- 
structed to  "  get  their  time."  Fabian  Laveque 
promptly  demanded  his. 

"  Sacrt  bleu!  "  said  he  to  old  Jackson.  "  I  no  work 
wid  dat  dam-fool  dat  no  t'ink  wit'  hees  haid." 

This  deprived  the  camp  at  once  of  a  teamster  and  a 
team.  When  you  reflect  that  one  pair  of  horses  takes 
care  of  the  exertions  of  a  crew  of  sawyers,  several 
swampers,  and  three  or  four  cant-hook  men,  you  will 
readily  see  what  a  serious  derangement  their  loss 
would  cause.  And  besides,  the  animals  themselves 

56 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  57 

are  difficult  to  replace.  They  are  big  strong  beasts, 
selected  for  their  power,  staying  qualities,  and  intelli- 
gence, worth  anywhere  from  three  to  six  hundred  dol- 
lars a  pair.  They  must  be  shipped  in  from  a  distance. 
And,  finally,  they  require  a  very  careful  and  patient 
training  before  they  are  of  value  in  co-operating  with 
the  nicely  adjusted  efforts  necessary  to  place  the  saw- 
log  where  it  belongs.  Ready-trained  horses  are  never 
for  sale  during  the  season. 

Radway  did  his  best.  He  took  three  days  to  search 
out  a  big  team  of  farm  horses.  Then  it  became  neces- 
sary to  find  a  driver.  After  some  deliberation  he  de- 
cided to  advance  Bob  Stratton  to  the  post,  that 
"  decker "  having  had  more  or  less  experience  the 
year  before.  Erickson,  the  Swede,  while  not  a  star 
cant-hook  man,  was  nevertheless  sure  and  reliable. 
Radway  placed  him  in  Stratton's  place.  But  now  he 
must  find  a  swamper.  He  remembered  Thorpe. 

So  the  young  man  received  his  first  promotion 
toward  the  ranks  of  skilled  labor.  He  gained  at  last 
a  field  of  application  for  the  accuracy  he  had  so  in- 
telligently acquired  while  road-making,  for  now  a 
false  stroke  marred  a  saw-log;  and  besides,  what  was 
more  to  his  taste,  he  found  himself  near  the  actual 
scene  of  operation,  at  the  front,  as  it  were.  He  had 
under  his  very  eyes  the  process  as  far  as  it  had  been 
carried. 

In  his  experience  here  he  made  use  of  the  same 
searching  analytical  observation  that  had  so  quickly 
taught  him  the  secret  of  the  ax-swing.  He  knew  that 
each  of  the  things  he  saw,  no  matter  how  trivial,  was 
either  premeditated  or  the  product  of  chance.  If  pre- 
meditated, he  tried  to  find  out  its  reason  for  being. 
If  fortuitous,  he  wished  to  know  the  fact,  and  always 
attempted  to  figure  out  the  possibility  of  its  elimina- 
tion. 

So  he  learned  why  and  when  the  sawyers  threw  a 


$8  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

tree  up  or  down  hill ;  how  much  small  standing  tim- 
ber they  tried  to  fell  it  through;  what  consideration 
held  for  the  cutting  of  different  lengths  of  log ;  how 
the  timber  was  skilfully  decked  on  the  skids  in  such 
a  manner  that  the  pile  should  not  bulge  and  fall,  and 
'  so  that  the  sealer  could  easily  determine  the  opposite 
ends  of  the  same  log;  —  in  short,  a  thousand  and  one 
little  details  which  ordinarily  a  man  learns  only  as  the 
exigencies  arise  to  call  in  experience.  Here,  too,  he 
first  realized  he  was  in  the  firing  line. 

Thorpe  had  assigned  him  as  bunk  mate  the  young 
fellow  who  assisted  Tom  Broadhead  in  the  felling. 
Henry  Paul  was  a  fresh-complexioned,  clear-eyed, 
quick-mannered  young  fellow  with  an  air  of  steady 
responsibility  about  him.  He  came  from  the  southern 
part  of  the  State,  where,  during  the  summer,  he 
worked  on  a  little  homestead  farm  of  his  own.  After 
a  few  days  he  told  Thorpe  that  he  was  married,  and 
after  a  few  days  more  he  showed  his  bunk  mate  the 
photograph  of  a  sweet-faced  young  woman  who 
looked  trustingly  out  of  the  picture. 

"  She's  waitin'  down  there  for  me,  and  it  ain't  so 
very  long  till  spring,"  said  Paul  wistfully.  "  She's 
the  best  little  woman  a  man  ever  had,  and  there  ain't 
nothin'  too  good  for  her,  chummy ! " 

Thorpe,  soul-sick  after  his  recent  experiences  with 
the  charity  of  the  world,  discovered  a  real  pleasure  in 
this  fresh,  clear  passion.  As  he  contemplated  the 
abounding  health,  the  upright  carriage,  the  sparkling, 
bubbling  spirits  of  the  young  woodsman,  he  could 
easily  imagine  the  young  girl  and  the  young  happi- 
ness, too  big  for  a  little  backwoods  farm. 

Three  days  after  the  newcomer  had  started  in  at  the 
swamping,  Paul,  during  their  early  morning  walk 
from  camp  to  the  scene  of  their  operations,  confided 
in  him  further. 

"  Got  another  letter,  chummy,"  said  he,  "  come  in 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  59 

yesterday.  She  tells  me,"  he  hesitated  with  a  blush, 
and  then  a  happy  laugh,  "  that  they  ain't  going  to  be 
only  two  of  us  at  the  farm  next  year." 

"  You  mean  !  "  queried  Thorpe. 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Paul,  "  and  if  it's  a  girl  she  gets 
named  after  her  mother,  you  bet." 

The  men  separated.  In  a  moment  Thorpe  found 
himself  waist-deep  in  the  pitchy  aromatic  top  of  an  old 
bull-sap,  clipping  away  at  the  projecting  branches. 
After  a  time  he  heard  Paul's  gay  halloo. 

"  Timber! "  came  the  cry,  and  then  the  swish-sh-sh, 
—  crash!  of  the  tree's  fall. 

Thorpe  knew  that  now  either  Hank  or  Tom  must 
be  climbing  with  the  long  measuring  pole  along  the 
prostrate  trunk,  marking  by  means  of  shallow  ax-clips 
where  the  saw  was  to  divide  the  logs.  Then  Torn 
shouted  something  unintelligible.  The  other  men 
seemed  to  understand,  however,  for  they  dropped 
their  work  and  ran  hastily  in  the  direction  of  the  voice. 
Thorpe,  after  a  moment's  indecision,  did  the  same. 
He  arrived  to  find  a  group  about  a  prostrate  man. 
The  man  was  Paul. 

Two  of  the  older  woodsmen,  kneeling,  were  con- 
ducting coolly  a  hasty  examination.  At  the  front 
every  man  is  more  or  less  of  a  surgeon. 

"  Is  he  hurt  badly?  "  asked  Thorpe ;  "  what  is  it?  " 

"  He's  dead,"  answered  one  of  the  other  men 
soberly. 

With  the  skill  of  ghastly  practice  some  of  them  wove 
a  litter  on  which  the  body  was  placed.  The  pathetic 
little  procession  moved  in  the  solemn,  inscrutable 
forest. 

When  the  tree  had  fallen  it  had  crashed  through 
the  top  of  another,  leaving  suspended  in  the  branches 
of  the  latter  a  long  heavy  limb.  A  slight  breeze  dis- 
lodged it.  Henry  Paul  was  impaled  as  by  a  javelin. 

This  is  the  chief  of  the  many  perils  of  the  woods. 


60  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Like  crouching  pumas  the  instruments  of  a  man's 
destruction  poise  on  the  spring,  sometimes  for  days. 
Then  swiftly,  silently,  the  leap  is  made.  It  is  a  danger 
unavoidable,  terrible,  ever-present.  Thorpe  was  des- 
tined in  time  to  see  men  crushed  and  mangled  in  ? 
hundred  ingenious  ways  by  the  saw  log,  knocked  into 
space  and  a  violent  death  by  the  butts  of  trees, 
ground  to  powder  in  the  mill  of  a  jam,  but  never 
would  he  be  more  deeply  impressed  than  by  this 
ruthless  silent  taking  of  a  life.  The  forces  of  nature 
are  so  tame,  so  simple,  so  obedient ;  and  in  the  next 
instant  so  absolutely  beyond  human  control  or  direc- 
tion, so  whirlingly  contemptuous  of  puny  human  ef- 
fort, that  in  time  the  wilderness  shrouds  itself  to  our 
eyes  in  the  same  impenetrable  mystery  as  the  sea. 

That  evening  the  camp  was  unusually  quiet.  Tal- 
lier  let  his  fiddle  hang.  After  supper  Thorpe  was  ap- 
proached by  Purdy,  the  reptilian  red-head  with  whom 
he  had  had  the  row  some  evenings  before. 

"You  in,  chummy?"  he  asked  in  a  quiet  voice. 
"  It's  a  five  apiece  for  Hank's  woman." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorpe. 

The  men  were  earning  from  twenty  to  thirty  dollars 
a  month.  They  had,  most  of  them,  never  seen  Hank 
Paul  before  this  autumn.  He  had  not,  mainly  because 
of  his  modest  disposition,  enjoyed  any  extraordinary 
degree  of  popularity.  Yet  these  strangers  cheerfully, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  gave  up  the  proceeds  of  a  week's 
hard  work,  and  that  without  expecting  the  slightest 
personal  credit.  The  money  was  sent  "  from  tht 
boys."  Thorpe  later  read  a  heart-broken  letter  of 
thanks  to  the  unknown  benefactors.  It  touched  him 
deeply,  and  he  suspected  the  other  men  of  the  same 
emotions,  but  by  that  time  they  had  regained  the  in- 
dependent, self-contained  poise  of  the  frontiersman. 
They  read  it  with  unmoved  faces,  and  tossed  it  aside 
with  a  more  than  ordinarily  rough  joke  or  oath. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  61 

Thorpe  understood  their  reticence.  It  was  a  part  of 
his  own  nature.  He  felt  more  than  ever  akin  to  these 
men. 

As  swamper  he  had  more  or  less  to  do  with  a  cant- 
hook  in  helping  the  teamsters  roll  the  end  of  the  log 
on  the  little  "  dray."  He  soon  caught  the  knack. 
Towards  Christmas  he  had  become  a  fairly  efficient 
cant-hook  man,  and  was  helping  roll  the  great  sticks 
of  timber  up  the  slanting  skids.  Thus  always  intelli- 
gence counts,  especially  that  rare  intelligence  which 
resolves  into  the  analytical  and  the  minutely  observ- 
ing. 

On  Sundays  Thorpe  fell  into  the  habit  of  accom- 
panying old  Jackson  Hines  on  his  hunting  expedi- 
tions. The  ancient  had  been  raised  in  the  woods.  He 
seemed  to  know  by  instinct  the  haunts  and  habits  of 
all  the  wild  animals,  just  as  he  seemed  to  know  by 
instinct  when  one  of  his  horses  was  likely  to  be  trou- 
bled by  the  colic.  His  woodcraft  was  really  remark- 
able. 

So  the  two  would  stand  for  hours  in  the  early  morn- 
ing and  late  evening  waiting  for  deer  on  the  edges 
of  the  swamps.  They  haunted  the  runways  during 
the  middle  of  the  day.  On  soft  moccasined  feet  they 
stole  about  in  the  evening  with  a  bull's-eye  lantern 
fastened  on  the  head,  of  one  of  them  for  a  "  jack." 
Several  times  they  surprised  the  wolves,  and  shone 
the  animals'  eyes  like  the  scattered  embers  of  a  camp 
fire. 

Thorpe  learned  to  shoot  at  a  deer's  shoulders  rather 
than  his  heart,  how  to  tell  when  the  animal  had  sus- 
tained a  mortal  hurt  from  the  way  it  leaped  and  the 
white  of  its  tail.  He  even  made  progress  in  the  dif- 
ficult art  of  still  hunting,  where  the  man  matches  his 
senses  against  those  of  the  creatures  of  the  forest,  — 
and  sometimes  wins.  He  soon  knew  better  than  to 
cut  the  animal's  throat,  and  learned  from  Hines  that 


62  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

a  single  stab  at  a  certain  point  of  the  chest  was  much 
better  for  the  purposes  of  bleeding.  And,  what  is 
more,  he  learned  not  to  over-shoot  down  hill. 

Besides  these  things  Jackson  taught  him  many 
other,  minor,  details  of  woodcraft.  Soon  the  young 
man  could  interpret  the  thousands  of  signs,  so  insig- 
nificant in  appearance  and  so  important  in  reality, 
which  tell  the  history  of  the  woods.  He  acquired  the 
knack  of  winter  fishing. 

These  Sundays  were  perhaps  the  most  nearly  per- 
fect of  any  of  the  days  of  that  winter.  In  them  the 
young  man  drew  more  directly  face  to  face  with  the 
wilderness.  He  called  a  truce  with  the  enemy ;  and 
in  return  that  great  inscrutable  power  poured  into  his 
heart  a  portion  of  her  grandeur.  His  ambition  grew ; 
and,  as  always  with  him,  his  determination  became 
the  greater  and  the  more  secret.  In  proportion  as  his 
ideas  increased,  he  took  greater  pains  to  shut  them  in 
from  expression.  For  failure  in  great  things  would 
bring  keener  disappointment  than  failure  in  little. 

He  was  getting  just  the  experience  and  the  knowl- 
edge he  needed ;  but  that  was  about  all.  His  wages 
were  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  which  his  van  bill 
would  reduce  to  the  double  eagle.  At  the  end  of  the 
winter  he  would  have  but  a  little  over  a  hundred 
dollars  to  show  for  his  season's  work,  and  this  could 
mean  at  most  only  fifty  dollars  for  Helen.  But  the 
future  was  his.  He  saw  now  more  plainly  what  he 
had  dimly  perceived  before,  that  for  the  man  who 
buys  timber,  and  logs  it  well,  a  sure  future  is  waiting. 
And  in  this  camp  he  was  beginning  to  learn  from 
failure  the  conditions  of  success. 


Chapter  IX 


rHEY  finished  cutting  on  section  seventeen 
during  Thorpe's  second  week.  It  became  nec- 
essary to  begin  on  section  fourteen,  which  lay 
two  miles  to  the  east.  In  that  direction  the  character 
of  the  country  changed  somewhat. 

The  pine  there  grew  thick  on  isolated  "  islands  "  of 
not  more  than  an  acre  or  so  in  extent,  —  little  knolls 
rising  from  the  level  of  a  marsh.  In  ordinary  condi- 
tions nothing  would  have  been  easier  than  to  have 
ploughed  roads  across  the  frozen  surface  of  this 
marsh.  The  peculiar  state  of  the  weather  interposed 
tremendous  difficulties. 

The  early  part  of  autumn  had  been  characterized  by 
a  heavy  snow-fall  immediately  after  a  series  of  mild 
days.  A  warm  blanket  of  some  thickness  thus  over- 
laid the  earth,  effectually  preventing  the  freezing 
which  subsequent  cold  weather  would  have  caused. 
All  the  season  Radway  had  contended  with  this  con- 
dition. Even  in  the  woods,  muddy  swamp  and 
spring-holes  caused  endless  difficulty  and  necessitated 
a  great  deal  of  "  corduroying,"  or  the  laying  of  poles 
side  by  side  to  form  an  artificial  bottom.  Here  in  the 
open  some  six  inches  of  water  and  unlimited  mud 
awaited  the  first  horse  that  should  break  through  the 
layer  of  snow  and  thin  ice.  Between  each  pair  of 
islands  a  road  had  to  be  "  tramped." 

Thorpe  and  the  rest  were  put  at  this  disagreeable 
job.  All  day  long  they  had  to  walk  mechanically  back 
and  forth  on  diagonals  between  the  marks  set  by  Rad- 

63 


64  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

way  with  his  snowshoes.  Early  in  the  morning  thcif 
feet  were  wet  by  icy  water,  for  even  the  light  weight 
of  a  man  sometimes  broke  the  frozen  skin  of  the 
marsh.  By  night  a  road  of  trampled  snow,  of  greater, 
or  less  length,  was  marked  out  across  the  expanse.1 
Thus  the  blanket  was  thrown  back  from  the  warm 
earth,  and  thus  the  cold  was  given  a  chance  at  the 
water  beneath.  In  a  day  or  so  the  road  would  bear 
a  horse.  A  bridge  of  ice  had  been  artificially  con- 
structed, on  either  side  of  which  lay  unsounded  depths. 
This  road  was  indicated  by  a  row  of  firs  stuck  in  the 
snow  on  either  side. 

It  was  very  cold.  All  day  long  the  restless  wind 
swept  across  the  shivering  surface  of  the  plains,  and 
tore  around  the  corners  of  the  islands.  The  big  woods 
are  as  good  as  an  overcoat.  The  overcoat  had  been 
taken  away. 

When  the  lunch-sleigh  arrived,  the  men  huddled 
shivering  in  the  lee  of  one  of  the  knolls,  and  tried  to 
eat  with  benumbed  fingers  before  a  fire  that  was  but 
a  mockery.  Often  it  was  nearly  dark  before  their 
work  had  warmed  them  again.  All  of  the  skidways 
had  to  be  placed  on  the  edges  of  the  islands  them- 
selves, and  the  logs  had  to  be  travoyed  over  the  steep 
little  knolls.  A  single  misstep  out  on  to  the  plain 
meant  a  mired  horse.  Three  times  heavy  snows  ob- 
literated the  roads,  so  that  they  had  to  be  ploughed 
out  before  the  men  could  go  to  work  again.  It  was 
a  struggle. 

Radway  was  evidently  worried.  He  often  paused 
before  a  gang  to  inquire  how  they  were  "  making  it." 
He  seemed  afraid  they  might  wish  to  quit,  which  was 
indeed  the  case,  but  he  should  never  have  taken  be- 
fore them  any  attitude  but  that  of  absolute  confidence 
in  their  intentions.  His  anxiety  was  natural,  however, 
i  He  real  zed  the  absolute  necessity  of  skidding  and 
hauling  this  job  before  the  heavy  choking  snows  of 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  65 

the  latter  part  of  January  should  make  it  impossible 
to  keep  the  roads  open.  So  insistent  was  this  necessity 
that  he  had  seized  the  first  respite  in  the  phenomenal 
snow-fall  of  the  early  autumn  to  begin  work.  The 
cutting  in  the  woods  could  wait. 

Left  to  themselves,  orobably  the  men  would  never 
have  dreamed  of  objecting  to  whatever  privations  the 
task  carried  with  it.  Radway's  anxiety  for  their  com- 
fort, however,  caused  them  finally  to  imagine  that 
perhaps  they  might  have  some  just  grounds  for  com- 
plaint after  all.  That  is  a  great  trait  of  the  lumber 
jack. 

But  Dyer,  the  sealer,  finally  caused  the  outbreak. 
Dyer  was  an  efficient  enough  man  in  his  way,  but  he 
loved  his  own  ease.  His  habit  was  to  stay  in  his 
bunk  of  mornings  until  well  after  daylight.  To  this 
there  could  be  no  objection  —  except  on  the  part  of 
the  cook,  who  was  supposed  to  attend  to  his  business 
himself — for  the  sealer  was  active  in  his  work,  when 
once  he  began  it,  and  could  keep  up  with  the  skid- 
ding. B^t  now  he  displayed  a  strong  antipathy  to 
the  north  wind  on  the  plains.  Of  course  he  could  not 
very  well  shirk  the  work  entirely,  but  he  did  a  good 
deal  of  talking  on  the  very  cold  mornings. 

"  I  don't  pose  for  no  tough  son-of-a-gun,"  said  he 
to  Radway,  "  and  I've  got  some  respect  for  my  ears 
and  feet.  She'll  warm  up  a  little  by  to-morrow,  and 
perhaps  the  wind'll  die.  I  can  catch  up  on  you  fel- 
lows by  hustling  a  little,  so  I  guess  I'll  stay  in  and 
work  on  the  books  to-day." 

"  All  right,"  Radway  assented,  a  little  doubtfully. 

This  happened  perhaps  two  days  out  of  the  week. 
Finally  Dyer  hung  out  a  thermometer,  which  he  used 
to  consult.  The  men  saw  it,  and  consulted  it  too.  At 
once  they  felt  much  colder. 

"  She  was  stan'  ten  below,"  spvttered  Baptiste  Tel- 
lier,  the  Frenchman  who  played  the  fiddle.  "  He 


66  THE  BLA/ED  TRAIL 

freeze  t'rou  to  hees  eenside.  Dat  is  too  cole  for  mak 
de  work." 

"Them  plains  is  sure  a  holy  fright,"  assented 
Purdy. 

"  Th'  old  man  knows  it  himself,"  agreed  big  Nolan ; 
"  did  you  see  him  rammin'  around  yesterday  askin' 
us  if  we  found  her  too  cold  ?  He  knows  damn  well  he 
ought  not  to  keep  a  man  out  that  sort  o'  weather." 

"  You'd  shiver  like  a  dog  in  a  briar  path  on  a  warm 
day  in  July,"  said  Jackson  Hines  contemptuously. 

"  Shut  up!  "  said  they.  "  You're  barn-boss.  You 
don't  have  to  be  out  in  th'  cold." 

This  was  true.  So  Jackson's  intervention  went  for 
a  little  worse  than  nothing. 

"  It  ain't  lak'  he  has  nuttin'  besides,"  went  on  Bap- 
tiste.  "  He  can  mak'  de  cut  in  de  meedle  of  de  fores'." 

"  That's  right,"  agreed  Bob  Stratton,  "  they's  the 
west  half  of  eight  ain't  been  cut  yet." 

So  they  sent  a  delegation  to  Radway.  Big  Nolan 
was  the  spokesman. 

"  Boss,"  said  he  bluntly,  "  she's  too  cold  to  work 
on  them  plains  to-day.  She's  the  coldest  day  we  had." 

Radway  was  too  old  a  hand  at  the  business  to  make 
any  promises  on  the  spot. 

"  I'll  see,  boys,"  said  he. 

When  the  breakfast  was  over  the  crew  were  set  to 
making  skidways  and  travoy  roads  on  eight.  This 
was  a  precedent.  In  time  the  work  on  the  plains  was 
grumblingly  done  in  any  weather.  However,  as  to 
this  Radway  proved  firm  enough.  He  was  a  good 
fighter  when  he  knew  he  was  being  imposed  on.  A 
man  could  never  cheat  or  defy  him  openly  without 
collecting  a  little  war  that  left  him  surprised  at  the 
jobber's  belligerency.  The  doubtful  cases,  those  on 
the  subtle  line  of  indecision,  found  him  weak.  He 
could  be  so  easily  persuaded  that  he  was  in  the  wrong. 
At  times  it  even  seemed  that  he  was  anxious  to  be 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  67 

proved  at  fault,  so  eager  was  he  to  catch  fairly  the 
justice  of  the  other  man's  attitude.  He  held  his  men 
inexorably  and  firmly  to  their  work  on  the  indispu- 
tably comfortable  days;  but  gave  in  often  when  an 
able-bodied  woodsman  should  have  seen  in  the 
weather  no  inconvenience,  even.  As  the  days  slipped 
by,  however,  he  tightened  the  reins.  Christmas  was 
approaching.  An  easy  mathematical  computation  re- 
duced the  question  of  completing  his  contract  with 
Morrison  &  Daly  to  a  certain  weekly  quota.  In  fact 
he  was  surprised  at  the  size  of  it.  He  would  have  to 
work  diligently  and  steadily  during  the  rest  of  the 
winter. 

Having  thus  a  definite  task  to  accomplish  in  a  defi- 
nite number  of  days,  Radway  grew  to  be  more  of  a 
taskmaster.  His  anxiety  as  to  the  completion  of  the 
work  overlaid  his  morbidly  sympathetic  human  in- 
terest. Thus  he  regained  to  a  small  degree  the  respect 
of  his  men.  Then  he  lost  it  again. 

One  morning  he  came  in  from  a  talk  with  the  sup- 
ply-teamster, and  woke  Dyer,  who  was  not  yet  up. 

"  I'm  going  down  home  for  two  or  three  weeks," 
he  announced  to  Dyer,  "  you  know  my  address. 
You'll  have  to  take  charge,  and  I  guess  you'd  better 
let  the  scaling  go.  We  can  get  the  tally  at  the  bank- 
ing grounds  when  we  begin  to  haul.  Now  we  ain't 
got  all  the  time  there  is,  so  you  want  to  keep  the  boys 
at  it  pretty  well." 

Dyer  twisted  the  little  points  of  his  mustache.  "  All 
right,  sir,"  said  he  with  his  smile  so  inscrutably  inso- 
lent that  Radway  never  saw  the  insolence  at  all.  He 
thought  this  a  poor  year  for  a  man  in  Radway's  posi- 
tion to  spend  Christmas  with  his  family,  but  it  was 
none  of  his  business. 

"  Do  as  much  as  you  can  in  the  marsh,  Dyer,"  went 
on  the  jobber.  "  I  don't  believe  ifc's  really  necessary 
to  lay  off  any  more  there  on  account  of  the  weather. 


68  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

We've  simply  got  to  get  that  job  in  before  the  big 
snows." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  repeated  Dyer. 

The  sealer  did  what  he  considered  his  duty.  All 
day  long  he  tramped  back  and  forth  from  one  gang 
of  men  to  the  other,  keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  the  details 
of  the  work.  His  practical  experience  was  sufficient 
to  solve  readily  such  problems  of  broken  tackle,  ex- 
tra expedients,  or  facility  which  the  days  brought 
forth.  The  fact  that  in  him  was  vested  the  power  to 
discharge  kept  the  men  at  work. 

Dyer  was  in  the  habit  of  starting  for  the  marsh  an 
hour  or  so  after  sunrise.  The  crew,  of  course,  were 
at  work  by  daylight.  Dyer  heard  them  often  through 
his  doze,  just  as  he  heard  the  chore-boy  come  in  to 
build  the  fire  and  fill  the  water  pail  afresh.  After  a 
time  the  fire,  built  of  kerosene  and  pitchy  jack  pine, 
would  get  so  hot  that  in  self-defense  he  would  arise 
and  dress.  Then  he  would  breakfast  leisurely. 

Thus  he  incurred  the  enmity  of  the  cook  and 
cookee.  Those  individuals  have  to  prepare  food  three 
times  a  day  for  a  half  hundred  heavy  eaters ;  besides 
which,  on  sleigh-haul,  they  are  supposed  to  serve  a 
breakfast  at  three  o'clock  for  the  loaders  and  a  variety 
of  lunches  up  to  midnight  for  the  sprinkler  men.  As 
a  consequence,  they  resent  infractions  of  the  little  sys- 
tem they  may  have  been  able  to  introduce. 

Now  the  business  of  a  foreman  is  to  be  up  as  soon 
as  anybody.  He  does  none  of  the  work  himself,  but 
he  must  see  that  somebody  else  does  it,  and  does  it 
well.  For  this  he  needs  actual  experience  at  the  work 
itself,  but  above  all  zeal  and  constant  presence.  He 
must  know  how  a  thing  ought  to  be  done,  and  he 
must  be  on  hand  unexpectedly  to  see  how  its  accom- 
plishment is  progressing.  Dyer  should  have  been  out 
of  bed  at  first  horn-blow. 

One  morning  he  slept  until  nearly  ten  o'clock.    It 


69 

was  inexplicable!  He  hurried  from  his  bunk,  made 
a  hasty  toilet,  and  started  for  the  dining-room  to  get 
some  sort  of  a  lunch  to  do  him  until  dinner  time.  As 
he  stepped  from  the  door  of  the  office  he  caught  sight 
of  two  men  hurrying  from  the  cook  camp  to  the  men's 
camp.  He  thought  he  heard  the  hum  of  conversation 
in  the  latter  building.  The  cookee  set  hot  coffee  be- 
fore him.  For  the  rest,  he  took  what  he  could  find 
cold  on  the  table. 

On  an  inverted  cracker  box  the  cook  sat  reading  an 
old  copy  of  the  Police  Gazette.  Various  fifty-pound 
lard  tins  were  bubbling  and  steaming  on  the  range. 
The  cookee  divided  his  time  between  them  and  the 
task  of  sticking  on  the  log  walls  pleasing  patterns 
made  of  illustrations  from  cheap  papers  and  the  gaudy 
labels  of  canned  goods.  Dyer  sat  down,  feeling,  for 
the  first  time,  a  little  guilty.  This  was  not  because 
of  a  sense  of  a  dereliction  in  duty,  but  because  he 
feared  the  strong  man's  contempt  for  inefficiency. 

"  I  sort  of  pounded  my  ear  a  little  long  this  morn- 
ing," he  remarked  with  an  unwonted  air  of  bonhomie. 

The  cook  creased  his  paper  with  one  hand  and  went 
on  reading;  the  little  action  indicating  at  the  same 
time  that  he  had  heard,  but  intended  to  vouchsafe  no 
attention.  The  cookee  continued  his  occupations. 

"  I  suppose  the  men  got  out  to  the  marsh  on  time," 
suggested  Dyer,  still  easily. 

The  cook  laid  aside  his  paper  and  looked  the  sealer 
in  the  eye. 

"  You're  the  foreman ;  I'm  the  cook,"  said  he. 
"  You  ought  to  know." 

The  cookee  had  paused,  the  paste  brush  in  his  hand. 

Dyer  was  no  weakling.  The  problem  presenting, 
he  rose  to  the  emergency.  Without  another  word  he 
pushed  back  his  coffee  cup  and  crossed  the  narrow 
open  passage  to  the  men's  camp. 

When  he  opened  the  door  a  silence  fell.    He  could 


70  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

see  dimly  that  the  room  was  full  of  lounging  and 
smoking  lumbermen.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  not  a  man 
had  stirred  out  that  morning.  This  was  more  for  the 
sake  of  giving  Dyer  a  lesson  than  of  actually  shirking 
the  work,  for  a  lumber-jack  is  honest  in  giving  his 
time  when  it  is  paid  for. 

"How's  this,  men!"  cried  Dyer  sharply;  "why 
aren't  you  out  on  the  marsh?  " 

No  one  answered  for  a  minute.    Then  Baptiste: 

"  He  mak'  too  tam  cole  for  de  marsh.  Meester 
Radway  he  spik  dat  we  kip  off  dat  marsh  w'en  he 
mak'  cole." 

Dyer  knew  that  the  precedent  was  indisputable. 

"Why  didn't  you  cut  on  eight  then?"  he  asked, 
still  in  peremptory  tones. 

"  Didn't  have  no  one  to  show  us  where  to  begin," 
drawled  a  voice  in  the  corner. 

Dyer  turned  sharp  on  his  heel  and  went  out. 

"  Sore  as  a  boil,  ain't  he!  "  commented  old  Jackson 
Hines  with  a  chuckle. 

In  the  cook  camp  Dyer  was  saying  to  the  cook, 
"  Well,  anyway,  we'll  have  dinner  early  and  get  a 
good  start  for  this  afternoon." 

The  cook  again  laid  down  his  paper.  "  I'm  tend- 
ing to  this  job  of  cook,"  said  he,  "  and  I'm  getting 
the  meals  on  time.  Dinner  will  be  on  time  to-day  — 
not  a  minute  early,  and  not  a  minute  late." 

Then  he  resumed  his  perusal  of  the  adventures  of 
ladies  to  whom  the  illustrations  accorded  magnificent 
calf-development. 

The  crew  worked  on  the  marsh  that  afternoon,  and 
the  subsequent  days  of  the  week.  They  labored  con- 
scientiously but  not  zealously.  There  is  a  deal  of  dif- 
ference, and  the  lumber-jack's  unaided  conscience  is 
likely  to  allow  him  a  certain  amount  of  conversation 
from  the  decks  of  skidways.  The  work  moved  slowly. 
At  Christmas  a  number  of  the  men  "  went  out."  Most 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  71 

of  them  were  back  again  after  four  or  five  days,  for, 
while  men  were  not  plenty,  neither  was  work.  The 
equilibrium  was  nearly  exact. 

But  the  convivial  souls  had  lost  to  Dyer  the  days 
of  their  debauch,  and  until  their  thirst  for  recupera- 
tive "  Pain  Killer,"  "  Hinckley  "  and  Jamaica  Ginger 
was  appeased,  they  were  not  much  good.  Instead  of 
keeping  up  to  fifty  thousand  a  day,  as  Radway  had 
figured  was  necessary,  the  scale  would  not  have  ex- 
ceeded thirty. 

Dyer  saw  all  this  plainly  enough,  but  was  not  able 
to  remedy  it.  That  was  not  entirely  his  fault.  He 
did  not  dare  give  the  delinquents  their  time,  for  he 
would  not  have  known  where  to  fill  their  places.  This 
lay  in  Radway's  experience.  Dyer  felt  that  responsi- 
bilities a  little  too  great  had  been  forced  on  him,  which 
was  partly  true.  In  a  few  days  the  young  man's  facile 
conscience  had  covered  all  his  shortcomings  with  the 
blanket  excuse.  He  conceived  that  he  had  a  griev- 
ance against  Radway! 


Chapter  X 


JTJADWAY  returned  to  camp  by  the  6th  of 
r^ January.  He  went  on  snowshoes  over  the  en- 
M.  V  tire  job ;  and  then  sat  silently  in  the  office  smok- 
ing "  Peerless "  in  his  battered  old  pipe.  Dyer 
watched  him  amusedly,  secure  in  his  grievance  in  case 
blame  should  be  attached  to  him.  The  jobber  looked 
older.  The  lines  of  dry  good-humor  about  his  eyes 
had  subtly  changed  to  an  expression  of  pathetic 
anxiety.  He  attached  no  blame  to  anybody,  but  rose 
the  next  morning  at  horn-blow,  and  the  men  found 
they  had  a  new  master  over  them. 

And  now  the  struggle  with  the  wilderness  came  to 
grapples.  Radway  was  as  one  possessed  by  a  burn- 
ing fever.  He  seemed  everywhere  at  once,  always 
helping  with  his  own  shoulder  and  arm,  hurrying  eag- 
erly. For  once  luck  seemed  with  him.  The  marsh 
was  cut  over;  the  "eighty"  on  section  eight  was 
skidded  without  a  break.  The  weather  held  cold  and 
clear. 

Now  it  became  necessary  to  put  the  roads  in  shape 
for  hauling.  All  winter  the  blacksmith,  between  his 
tasks  of  shoeing  and  mending,  had  occupied  his  time 
in  fitting  the  iron-work  on  eight  log-sleighs  which  the 
carpenter  had  hewed  from  solid  sticks  of  timber. 
They  were  tremendous  affairs,  these  sleighs,  with  run- 
ners six  feet  apart,  and  bunks  nine  feet  in  width  for 
the  reception  of  logs.  The  bunks  were  so  connected 
by  two  loosely-coupled  rods  that,  when  emptied,  they 
could  be  swung  parallel  with  the  road,  so  reducing 
the  width  of  the  sleigh.  The  carpenter  had  also  built 

72 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  73 

two  immense  tanks  on  runners,  holding  each  some 
seventy  barrels  of  water,  and  with  holes  so  arranged 
in  the  bottom  and  rear  that  on  the  withdrawal  of  plugs 
the  water  would  flood  the  entire  width  of  the  road. 
These  sprinklers  were  filled  by  horse  power.  A  chain* 
running  through  blocks  attached  to  a  solid  upper 
framework,  like  the  open  belfry  of  an  Italian  monas- 
tery, dragged  a  barrel  up  a  wooden  track  from  the 
water  hole  to  the  opening  in  the  sprinkler.  When  in 
action  this  formidable  machine  weighed  nearly  two 
tons  and  resembled  a  moving  house.  Other  men  had 
felled  two  big  hemlocks,  from  which  they  had  hewed 
beams  for  a  V  plow. 

The  V  plow  was  now  put  in  action.  Six  horses 
drew  it  down  the  road,  each  pair  superintended  by  a 
driver.  The  machine  was  weighted  down  by  a  num- 
ber of  logs  laid  across  the  arms.  Men  guided  it  by 
levers,  and  by  throwing  their  weight  against  the  fans 
of  the  plow.  It  was  a  gay,  animated  scene  this,  full 
of  the  spirit  of  winter  —  the  plodding,  straining  horses, 
the  brilliantly  dressed,  struggling  men,  the  sullen- 
yielding  snow  thrown  to  either  side,  the  shouts,  warn- 
ings, and  commands.  To  right  and  left  grew  white 
banks  of  snow.  Behind  stretched  a  broad  white  path 
in  which  a  scant  inch  hid  the  bare  earth. 

For  some  distance  the  way  led  along  comparatiyely 
high  ground.  Then,  skirting  the  edge  of  a  lake,  it 
plunged  into  a  deep  creek  bottom  between  hills. 
Here,  earlier  in  the  year,  eleven  bridges  had  been  con- 
structed, each  a  labor  of  accuracy;  and  perhaps  as 
many  swampy  places  had  been  "  corduroyed  "  by  car- 
peting them  with  long  parallel  poles.  Now  the  first 
difficulty  began. 

Some  of  the  bridges  had  sunk  below  the  level,  and 
the  approaches  had  to  be  corduroyed  to  a  practicable 
grade.  Others  again  were  humped  up  like  tom-cats, 
and  had  to  be  pulled  apart  entirely.  In  spots  the 


74  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  corduroy "  had  spread,  so  that  the  horses  thrust 
their  hoofs  far  down  into  leg-breaking  holes.  The 
experienced  animals  were  never  caught,  however.  As 
soon  as  they  felt  the  ground  giving  way  beneath  one 
foot,  they  threw  their  weight  on  the  other. 

Still,  that  sort  of  thing  was  to  be  expected. 
A  gang  of  men  who  followed  the  plow  carried  axes 
and  cant-hooks  for  the  purpose  of  repairing  extem- 
poraneously just  such  defects,  which  never  would  have 
been  discovered  otherwise  than  by  the  practical  ex- 
perience. Radway  himself  accompanied  the  plow. 
Thorpe,  who  went  along  as  one  of  the  "  road 
monkeys,"  saw  now  why  such  care  had  been  required 
of  him  in  smoothing  the  way  of  stubs,  knots,  and 
hummocks. 

Down  the  creek  an  accident  occurred  on  this  ac- 
count. The  plow  had  encountered  a  drift.  Three 
times  the  horses  had  plunged  at  it,  and  three  times 
had  been  brought  to  a  stand,  not  so  much  by  the 
drag  of  the  V  plow  as  by  the  wallowing  they  them- 
selves had  to  do  in  the  drift. 

"  No  use,  break  her  through,  boys,"  said  Radway. 

So  a  dozen  men  hurled  their  bodies  through,  mak- 
ing an  opening  for  the  horses. 

"Hi!  yup!"  shouted  the  three  teamsters,  gather- 
ing up  their  reins. 

The  horses  put  their  heads  down  and  plunged.  The 
whole  apparatus  moved  with  a  rush,  men  clinging, 
animals  digging  their  hoofs  in,  snow  flying.  Suddenly 
there  came  a  check,  then  a  crack,  and  then  the  plow 
shot  forward  so  suddenly  and  easily  that  the  horses 
all  but  fell  on  their  noses.  The  flanging  arms  of  the 
V,  forced  in  a  place  too  narrow,  had  caught  between 
heavy  stubs.  One  of  the  arms  had  broken  square  off. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  fell  another  hem- 
lock and  hew  out  another  beam,  which  meant  a  day 
lost.  Radway  occupied  his  men  with  shovels  in  clear- 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  7; 

ing  the  edge  of  the  road,  and  started  one  of  his  sprink- 
lers over  the  place  already  cleared.  Water  holes  of 
suitable  size  had  been  blown  in  the  creek  bank  by 
dynamite.  There  the  machines  were  filled.  It  was 
a  slow  process.  Stratton  attached  his  horse  to  the 
chain  and  drove  him  back  and  forth,  hauling  the  bar- 
rel up  and  down  the  slideway.  At  the  bottom  it  was 
capsized  and  filled  by  means  of  a  long  pole  shackled 
to  its  bottom  and  manipulated  by  old  man  Heath. 
At  the  top  it  turned  over  by  its  own  weight.  Thus 
seventy  odd  times. 

Then  Fred  Green  hitched  his  team  on,  and  the  four 
horses  drew  the  creaking,  cumbrous  vehicle  spouting 
down  the  road.  Water  gushed  in  fans  from  the  open- 
ings on  either  side  and  beneath ;  and  in  streams  from 
two  holes  behind.  Not  for  an  instant  as  long  as  the 
flow  continued  dared  the  teamsters  breathe  their 
horses,  for  a  pause  would  freeze  the  runners  tight  to 
the  ground.  A  tongue  at  either  end  obviated  the 
necessity  of  turning  around. 

While  the  other  men  hewed  at  the  required  beam 
for  the  broken  V  plow,  Heath,  Stratton,  and  Green 
went  over  the  cleared  road-length  once.  To  do  so 
required  three  sprinklerfuls.  When  the  road  should 
be  quite  free,  and  both  sprinklers  running,  they  would 
have  to  keep  at  it  until  after  midnight. 

And  then  silently  the  wilderness  stretched  forth  her 
hand  and  pushed  these  struggling  atoms  back  to  their 
place. 

That  night  it  turned  warmer.  The  change  was 
heralded  by  a  shift  of  wind.  Then  some  blue  jays 
appeared  from  nowhere  and  began  to  scream  at  their 
more  silent  brothers,  the  whisky  jacks. 

"  She's  goin'  to  rain,"  said  old  Jackson.  "  The  air 
is  kind  o'  holler." 

"Hollow?"  said  Thorpe,  laughing.  "How  is 
that?" 


76 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 


"  I  don'  no,"  confessed  Hines,  "  but  she  is.  She 
jest  feels  that  way." 

In  the  morning  the  icicles  dripped  from  the  roof, 
and  although  the  snow  did  not  appreciably  melt,  it 
shrank  into  itself  and  became  pock-marked  on  the 
surface. 

Radway  was  down  looking  at  the  road. 

"  She's  holdin'  her  own,"  said  he,  "  but  there  ain't 
any  use  putting  more  water  on  her.  She  ain't  freez- 
ing a  mite.  We'll  plow  her  out." 

So  they  finished  the  job,  and  plowed  her  out,  leav- 
ing exposed  the  wet,  marshy  surface  of  the  creek- 
bottom,  on  which  at  night  a  thin  crust  formed.  Across 
the  marsh  the  old  tramped  road  held  up  the  horses, 
and  the  plow  swept  clear  a  little  wider  swath. 

"  She'll  freeze  a  little  to-night,"  said  Radway  hope- 
fully. "  You  sprinkler  boys  get  at  her  and  wet  her 
down." 

Until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  four  teams 
and  the  six  men  creaked  back  and  forth  spilling 
hardly-gathered  water  —  weird,  unearthly,  in  the  flick- 
ering light  of  their  torches.  Then  they  crept  in  and 
ate  sleepily  the  food  that  a  sleepy  cookee  set  out  for 
them. 

By  morning  the  mere  surface  of  this  sprinkled  water 
had  frozen,  the  remainder  beneath  had  drained  away, 
and  so  Radway  found  in  his  road  considerable  patches 
of  shell  ice,  useless,  crumbling.  He  looked  in  despair 
at  the  sky.  Dimly  through  the  gray  he  caught  the 
tint  of  blue. 

The  sun  came  out.  Nut-hatches  and  wood-peckers 
ran  gayly  up  the  warming  trunks  of  the  trees.  Blue 
jays  fluffed  and  perked  and  screamed  in  the  hard-wood 
tops.  A  covey  of  grouse  ventured  from  the  swamp 
and  strutted  vainly,  a  pause  of  contemplation  between 
each  step.  Radway,  walking  out  on  the  tramped  road 
of  the  marsh,  cracked  the  artificial  skin  and  thrust  his 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 


77 


loot  through  into  icy  water.  That  night  the  sprinklers 
stayed  in. 

The  devil  seemed  in  it.  If  the  thaw  would  only 
cease  before  the  ice  bottom  so  laboriously  constructed 
was  destroyed!  Radway  vibrated  between  the  office 
and  the  road.  Men  were  lying  idle ;  teams  were  doing 
the  same.  Nothing  went  on  but  the  days  of  the  year; 
and  four  of  them  had  already  ticked  off  the  calendar. 
The  deep  snow  of  the  unusually  cold  autumn  had  now 
disappeared  from  the  tops  of  the  stumps.  Down  in 
the  swamp  the  covey  of  partridges  were  beginning  to 
hope  that  in  a  few  days  more  they  might  discover  a 
bare  spot  in  the  burnings.  It  even  stopped  freezing 
during  the  night.  At  times  Dyer's  little  thermometer 
marked  as  high  as  forty  degrees. 

"  I  often  heard  this  was  a  sort  V  summer  resort," 
observed  Tom  Broadhead,  "  but  danged  if  I  knew  it 
was  a  summer  resort  all  the  year  'round." 

The  weather  got  to  be  the  only  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. Each  had  his  say,  his  prediction.  It  became 
maddening.  Towards  evening  the  chill  of  melting 
snow  would  deceive  many  into  the  belief  that  a  cold 
snap  was  beginning. 

"  She'll  freeze  before  morning,  sure,"  was  the  hope- 
ful comment. 

And  then  in  the  morning  the  air  would  be  more 
balmily  insulting  than  ever. 

"  Old  man  is  as  blue  as  a  whetstone,"  commented 
Jackson  Mines,  "  an'  I  don't  blame  him.  This 
weather'd  make  a  man  mad  enough  to  eat  the  devil 
with  his  horns  left  on." 

By  and  by  it  got  to  be  a  case  of  looking  on  the  bright 
side  of  the  affair  from  pure  reaction. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Radway,  "  it  won't  be  so  ba( 
after  all.  A  couple  of  days  of  zero  weather,  with  al\ 
this  water  lying  around,  would  fix  things  up  in  pretty 
good  shape.  If  she  only  freezes  tight,  we'll  have  a 


78  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

good  solid  bottom  to  build  on,  and  that'll  be  quite  a 
good  rig  out  there  on  the  marsh." 

The  inscrutable  goddess  of  the  wilderness  smiled, 
and  calmly,  relentlessly,  moved  her  next  pawn. 

It  was  all  so  unutterably  simple,  and  yet  so  effective. 
Something  there  was  in  it  of  the  calm  inevitability  of 
fate.  It  snowed. 

All  night  and  all  day  the  great  flakes  zig-zagged 
softly  down  through  the  air.  Radway  plowed  away 
two  feet  of  it.  The  surface  was  promptly  covered  by 
a  second  storm.  Radway  doggedly  plowed  it  out 
again. 

This  time  the  goddess  seemed  to  relent.  The 
ground  froze  solid.  The  sprinklers  became  assiduous 
in  their  labor.  Two  days  later  the  road  was  ready  for 
the  first  sleigh,  its  surface  of  thick,  glassy  ice,  beautiful 
to  behold;  the  ruts  cut  deep  and  true;  the  grades 
sanded,  or  sprinkled  with  retarding  hay  on  the  de- 
scents. At  the  river  the  banking  ground  proved 
solid.  Radway  breathed  again,  then  sighed.  Spring 
was  eight  days  nearer.  He  was  eight  days  more 
behind. 


Chapter  XI 


.^S  soon  as  loading  began,  the  cook  served  break- 
/J  fast  at  three  o'clock.  The  men  worked  by  the 
X  JL  light  of  torches,  which  were  often  merely  catsup 
jugs  with  wicking  in  the  necks.  Nothing  could  be 
more  picturesque  than  a  teamster  conducting  one  of 
his  great  pyramidical  loads  over  the  little  inequalities 
of  the  road,  in  the  ticklish  places  standing  atop  with 
the  bent  knee  cf  the  Roman  charioteer,  spying  and 
forestalling  the  chances  of  the  way  with  a  fixed  eye 
and  an  intense  concentration  that  relaxed  not  one 
inch  in  the  miles  of  the  haul.  Thorpe  had  become  a 
full-fledged  cant-hook  man. 

He  liked  the  work.  There  is  about  it  a  skill  that 
fascinates.  A  man  grips  suddenly  with  the  hook  of 
his  strong  instrument,  stopping  one  end  that  the  other 
may  slide;  he  thrusts  the  short,  strong  stock  between 
the  log  and  the  skid,  allowing  it  to  be  overrun;  he 
stops  the  roll  with  a  sudden  sure  grasp  applied  at  just 
the  right  moment  to  be  effective.  Sometimes  he  al- 
lows himself  to  be  carried  up  bodily,  clinging  to  the 
cant-hook  like  an  acrobat  to  a  bar,  until  the  log  has 
rolled  once;  when,  his  weapon  loosened,  he  drops 
lightly,  easily  to  the  ground.  And  it  is  exciting  to 
pile  the  logs  on  the  sleigh,  first  a  layer  of  five,  say; 
then  one  of  six  smaller;  of  but  three;  of  two;  until, 
at  the  very  apex,  the  last  is  dragged  slowly  up  the 
skids,  poised,  and,  just  as  it  is  about  to  plunge  down 
the  other  side,  is  gripped  and  held  inexorably  by  the 
little  men  in  blue  flannel  shirts. 

Chains  bind  the  loads.  And  if  ever,  during  the  load- 
ing, or  afterwards  when  the  sleigh  is  in  motion,  the 

79 


8o  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

weight  of  the  logs  causes  the  pyramid  to  break  down 
and  squash  out ;  —  then  woe  to  the  driver,  or  whoever 
nappen^  to  be  near!  A  saw  log  does  not  make  a  great 
deal  of  fuss  while  falling,  but  it  falls  through  anything 
that  happens  in  its  way,  and  a  man  who  gets  mixed 
up  in  a  load  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  of  them  obeying 
the  laws  of  gravitation  from  a  height  of  some  fifteen 
to  twenty  feet,  can  be  crushed  into  strange  shapes  and 
fragments.  For  this  reason  the  loaders  are  picked  and 
careful  men. 

At  the  banking  grounds,  which  lie  in  and  about  the 
bed  of  the  river,  the  logs  are  piled  in  a  gigantic  skid- 
way  to  await  the  spring  freshets,  which  will  carry  them 
down  stream  to  the  "  boom."  In  that  enclosure  they 
remain  until  sawed  in  the  mill. 

Such  is  the  drama  of  the  saw  log,  a  story  of  grit, 
resourcefulness,  adaptability,  fortitude  and  ingenuity 
hard  to  match.  Conditions  never  repeat  themselves 
in  the  woods  as  they  do  in  the  factory.  The  wilder- 
ness offers  ever  new  complications  to  solve,  difficulties 
to  overcome.  A  man  must  think  of  everything,  figure 
on  everything,  from  the  grand  sweep  of  the  country 
at  large  to  the  pressure  on  a  king-bolt.  And  where 
another  possesses  the  boundless  resources  of  a  great 
city,  he  has  to  rely  on  the  material  stored  in  one  cor- 
ner of  a  shed.  It  is  easy  to  build  a  palace  with  men 
and  tools;  it  is  difficult  to  build  a  log  cabin  with  noth- 
ing but  an  ax.  His  wits  must  help  him  where  his 
experience  fails;  and  his  experience  must  push  him 
mechanically  along  the  track  of  habit  when  successive 
buffetings  have  beaten  his  wits  out  of  his  head.  *  In 
a  day  he  must  construct  elaborate  engines,  roads,  and 
implements  which  old  civilization  considers  the  works 
of  leisure.  Without  a  thought  of  expense  he  must 
abandon  as  temporary,  property  which  other  indus- 
tries cry  out  at  being  compelled  to  acquire  as  per- 
manent. For  this  reason  he  becomes  in  time  different 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  Si 

from  his  fellows.  The  wilderness  leaves  something 
of  her  mystery  in  his  eyes,  that  mystery  of  hidden, 
unknown  but  guessed,  power.  Men  look  after  him 
on  the  street,  as  they  would  look  after  any  other 
pioneer,  in  vague  admiration  of  a  scope  more  virile 
than  their  own. 

Thorpe,  in  common  with  the  other  men,  had  thought 
Radway's  vacation  at  Christmas  time  a  mistake.  He 
could  not  but  admire  the  feverish  animation  that  now 
characterized  the  jobber.  Every  mischance  was  as 
quickly  repaired  as  aroused  expedient  could  do  the 
work. 

The  marsh  received  first  attention.  There  the  rest- 
less snow  drifted  uneasily  before  the  wind.  Nearly 
every  day  the  road  had  to  be  plowed,  and  the 
sprinklers  followed  the  teams  almost  constantly. 
Often  it  was  bitter  cold,  but  no  one  dared  to  suggest 
to  the  determined  jobber  that  it  might  be  better  to 
remain  indoors.  The  men  knew  as  well  as  he  that 
the  heavy  February  snows  would  block  traffic  beyond 
hope  of  extrication. 

As  it  was,  several  times  an  especially  heavy  fall 
clogged  the  way.  The  snow-plow,  even  with  extra 
teams,  could  hardly  force  its  path  through.  Men  with 
shovels  helped.  Often  but  a  few  loads  a  day,  and  they 
small,  could  be  forced  to  the  banks  by  the  utmost  ex- 
ertions of  the  entire  crew.  Esprit  de  corps  awoke. 
The  men  sprang  to  their  tasks  with  alacrity,  gave  more 
than  an  hour's  exertion  to  each  of  the  twenty-four,  took 
a  pride  in  repulsing  the  assaults  of  the  great  enemy, 
whom  they  personified  under  the  generic  "  She." 
Mike  McGovern  raked  up  a  saint  somewhere  whom 
he  apostrophized  in  a  personal  and  familiar  manner. 

He  hit  his  head  against  an  overhanging  branch. 

"  You're  a  nice  wan,  now  ain't  ye?  "  he  cried  angrily 
at  the  unfortunate  guardian  of  his  soul.  "  Dom  if  Oi 
don't  quit  ye!  Ye  see!" 


82  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

"Be  the  gate  of  Hivin!"  he  shouted,  when  h« 
opened  the  door  of  mornings  and  discovered  another 
six  inches  of  snow,  "  Ye're  a  burrd!  If  Oi  couldn't 
make  out  to  be  more  of  a  saint  than  that,  Oi'd  quit 
the  biznis!  Move  yor  pull,  an'  get  us  some  dacint 
weather!  Ye  awt  t'  be  road  monkeyin'  on  th'  golden 
streets,  thot's  what  ye  awt  to  be  doin' !  " 

Jackson  Hines  was  righteously  indignant,  but  with 
the  shrewdness  of  the  old  man,  put  the  blame  partly 
where  it  belonged. 

"  I  ain't  sayin',"  he  observed  judicially,  "  that  this 
weather  ain't  hell.  It's  hell  and  repeat.  But  a  man 
sort've  got  to  expec'  weather.  He  looks  for  it,  and 
he  oughta  be  ready  for  it.  The  trouble  is  we  got  be- 
hind Christmas.  It's  that  Dyer.  He's  about  as  mean 
as  they  make  'em.  The  only  reason  he  didn't  die  long 
ago  is  becuz  th'  Devil's  thought  him  too  mean  to  pay 
any  'tendon  to.  If  ever  he  should  die  an'  go  to 
Heaven  he'd  pry  up  th'  golden  streets  an'  use  the 
infernal  pit  for  a  smelter." 

With  this  magnificent  bit  of  invective,  Jackson 
seized  a  lantern  and  stumped  out  to  see  that  the  team- 
sters fed  their  horses  properly. 

"  Didn't  know  you  were  a  miner,  Jackson,"  called 
Thorpe,  laughing. 

"  Young  feller,"  replied  Jackson  at  the  door,  "  it's 
a  lot  easier  to  tell  what  I  ain't  been." 

So  floundering,  battling,  making  a  little  progress 
every  day,  the  strife  continued. 

One  morning  in  February,  Thorpe  was  helping  load 
a  big  butt  log.  He  was  engaged  in  "  sending  up  "; 
that  is,  he  was  one  of  the  two  men  who  stand  at  either 
side  of  the  skids  to  help  the  ascending  log  keep  straight 
and  true  to  its  bed  on  the  pile.  His  assistant's  end 
caught  on  a  sliver,  ground  for  a  second,  and  slipped 
back.  Thus  the  log  ran  slanting  across  the  skids  in- 
stead of  perpendicular  to  them.  To  rectify  the  fault, 
Thorpe  dug  his  cant-hook  into  the  timber  and  threw 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  83 

ms  weight  on  the  stock.  He  hoped  in  this  manner 
to  check  correspondingly  the  ascent  of  his  end.  In 
other  words,  he  took  the  place,  on  his  side,  of  the  pre- 
venting sliver,  so  equalizing  the  pressure  and  forcing 
the  timber  to  its  proper  position.  Instead  of  rolling, 
the  log  slid.  The  stock  of  the  cant-hook  was  jerked 
from  his  hands.  He  fell  back,  and  the  cant-hook,  after 
clinging  for  a  moment  to  the  rough  bark,  snapped 
down  and  hit  him  a  crushing  blow  on  the  top  of  the 
head. 

Had  a  less  experienced  man  than  Jim  Gladys  been 
stationed  at  the  other  end,  Thorpe's  life  would  have 
ended  there.  A  shout  of  surprise  or  horror  would 
have  stopped  the  horse  pulling  on  the  decking  chain; 
the  heavy  stick  would  have  slid  back  on  the  prostrate 
young  man,  who  would  have  thereupon  been  ground 
to  atoms  as  he  lay.  With  the  utmost  coolness  Gladys 
swarmed  the  slanting  face  of  the  load;  interposed  the 
length  of  his  cant-hook  stock  between  the  log  and  it; 
held  it  exactly  long  enough  to  straighten  the  timber, 
but  not  so  long  as  to  crush  his  own  head  and  arm;  and 
ducked,  just  as  the  great  piece  of  wood  rumbled  over 
the  end  of  the  skids  and  dropped  with  a  thud  into  the 
place  Norton,  the  "  top  "  man,  had  prepared  for  it. 

It  was  a  fine  deed,  quickly  thought,  quickly  dared. 
No  one  saw  it.  Jim  Gladys  was  a  hero,  but  a  hero 
without  an  audience. 

They  took  Thorpe  up  and  carried  him  in,  just  as 
they  had  carried  Hank  Paul  before.  Men  who  had  not 
spoken  a  dozen  words  to  him  in  as  many  days  gathered 
his  few  belongings  and  stuffed  them  awkwardly  intc 
his  satchel.  Jackson  Hines  prepared  the  bed  of  straw 
and  warm  blankets  in  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh  that 
was  to  take  him  out. 

"  He  would  have  made  a  good  boss,"  said  the  old 
fellow.  "  He's  a- hard  man  to  nick." 

Thorpe  was  carried  in  from  the  front,  and  the  battle 

ent  on  without  him. 


Chapter  XII 


rHORPE  never  knew  how  carefully  he  was  car- 
ried to  camp,  nor  how  tenderly  the  tote  team- 
ster drove  his  hay-couched  burden  to  Beeson 
Lake.     He  had  no  consciousness  of  the  jolting  train, 
in  the  baggage  car  of  which  Jimmy,  the  little  brake- 
man,  and  Bud,  and  the  baggage  man  spread  blankets, 
and   altogether   put   themselves   to   a   great   deal    of 
trouble.     When  finally  he  came  to  himself,  he  was  in 
a  long,  bright,  clean  room,  and  the  sunset  was  throw- 
ing splashes  of  light  on  the  ceiling  over  his  head. 

He  watched  them  idly  for  a  time;  then  turned  on 
his  pillow.  At  once  he  perceived  a  long,  double  row 
of  clean  white-painted  iron  beds,  on  which  lay  or  sat 
figures  of  men.  Other  figures,  of  women,  glided  here 
and  there  noiselessly.  They  wore  long,  spreading 
dove-gray  clothes,  with  a  starched  white  kerchief 
drawn  over  the  shoulders  and  across  the  breast. 
Their  heads  were  quaintly  white-garbed  in  stiff  wing- 
like  coifs,  fitting  close  about  the  oval  of  the  face.  Then 
Thorpe  sighed  comfortably,  and  closed  his  eyes  and 
blessed  the  chance  that  he  had  bought  a  hospital  ticket 
of  the  agent  who  had  visited  camp  the  month  before. 
For  these  were  Sisters,  and  the  young  man  lay  in  the 
Hospital  of  St.  Mary. 

Time  was  when  the  lumber-jack  who  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  fall  sick  or  to  meet  with  an  accident  was 
in  a  sorry  plight  indeed.  If  he  possessed  a  "  stake," 
he  would  receive  some  sort  of  unskilled  attention  in 
one  of  the  numerous  and  fearful  lumberman's  board- 
ing-houses, —  just  so  long  as  his  money  lasted,  not  one 

84 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  85 

instant  more.  Then  he  was  bundled  brutally  into  the 
street,  no  matter  what  his  condition  might  be.  Penni- 
less, without  friends,  sick,  he  drifted  naturally  to  the 
county  poorhouse.  There  he  was  patched  up  quickly 
and  sent  out  half-cured.  The  authorities  were  not  so 
much  to  blame.  With  the  slender  appropriations  a* 
their  disposal,  they  found  difficulty  in  taking  care  01 
those  who  came  legitimately  under  their  jurisdiction. 
It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  they  would  welcome 
with  open  arms  a  vast  army  of  crippled  and  diseased 
men  temporarily  from  the  woods.  The  poor  lumber- 
jack was  often  left  broken  in  mind  and  body  from 
causes  which  a  little  intelligent  care  would  have  ren- 
dered unimportant. 

With  the  establishment  of  the  first  St.  Mary's  hos- 
pital, I  think  at  Bay  City,  all  this  was  changed.  Now, 
in  it  and  a  half  dozen  others  conducted  on  the  same 
principles,  the  woodsman  receives  the  best  of  medi- 
cines, nursing,  and  medical  attendance.  From  one  of 
the  numerous  agents  who  periodically  visit  the  camps, 
he  purchases  for  eight  dollars  a  ticket  which  admits 
him  at  any  time  during  the  year  to  the  hospital,  where 
he  is  privileged  to  remain  free  of  further  charge  until 
convalescent.  So  valuable  are  these  institutions,  and 
so  excellently  are  they  maintained  by  the  Sisters,  that 
a  hospital  agent  is  always  welcome,  even  in  those 
camps  from  which  ordinary  peddlers  and  insurance 
men  are  rigidly  excluded.  Like  a  great  many  other 
charities  built  on  a  common-sense  self-supporting  ra- 
tional basis,  the  woods  hospitals  are  under  the  Romao 
Catholic  Church. 

In  one  of  these  hospitals  Thorpe  lay  for  six  week? 
suffering  from  a  severe  concussion  of  the  brain.  A) 
the  end  of  the  fourth,  his  fever  had  broken,  but  he 
was  pronounced  as  yet  too  weak  to  be  moved. 

His  nurse  was  a  red-cheeked,  blue-eyed,  homely  lit- 
tle Irish  girl,  brimming  with  motherly  good-humor. 


86  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

When  Thorpe  found  strength  to  talk,  the  two  became 
friends.  Through  her  influence  he  was  moved  to  a 
bed  about  ten  feet  from  the  window.  Thence  his 
privileges  were  three  roofs  and  a  glimpse  of  the  dis* 
tant  river. 

The  roofs  were  covered  with  snow.  One  day 
Thorpe  saw  it  sink  into  itself  and  gradually  run  away. 
The  tinkle  tinkle  tank  tank  of  drops  sounded  from  his 
own  eaves.  Down  the  far-off  river,  sluggish  reaches 
of  ice  drifted.  Then  in  a  night  the  blue  disappeared 
from  the  stream.  It  became  a  menacing  gray,  and 
even  from  his  distance  Thorpe  could  catch  the  swirl 
of  its  rising  waters.  A  day  or  two  later  dark  masses 
drifted  or  shot  across  the  field  of  his  vision,  and  twice 
he  thought  he  distinguished  men  standing  upright  and 
bold  on  single  logs  as  they  rushed  down  the  current. 

"  What  is  the  date?  "  he  asked  of  the  Sister. 

"  The  elevent'  of  March." 

"  Isn't  it  early  for  the  thaw?  " 

"Listen  to  'im!"  exclaimed  the  Sister  delightedly, 
"Early  is  it!  Sure  th'  freshet  co't  thim  all.  Look, 
darlint,  ye  kin  see  th'  drive  from  here." 

"  I  see,"  said  Thorpe  wearily,  "  when  can  I  get 
out?  " 

"  Not  for  wan  week,"  replied  the  Sister  decidedly. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  Thorpe  said  good-by  to  his 
attendant,  who  appeared  as  sorry  to  see  him  go  as 
though  the  same  partings  did  not  come  to  her  a  dozen 
times  a  year;  he  took  two  days  of  tramping  the  little 
town  to  regain  the  use  of  his  legs,  and  boarded  the 
morning  train  for  Beeson  Lake.  He  did  not  pause  in 
the  village,  but  bent  his  steps  to  the  river  trail. 


Chapter  XIII 


rHORPE  found  the  woods  very  different  from 
when  he  had  first  traversed  them.    They  were 
full  of  patches  of  wet  earth  and  of  sunshine; 
of  dark  pine,  looking  suddenly  worn,  and  of  fresh 
green  shoots  of  needles,  looking  deliciously  spring- 
like.   This  was  the  contrast  everywhere  —  stern,  ear- 
nest, purposeful  winter,  and  gay,  laughing,  careless 
spring.     It  was  impossible  not  to  draw  in  fresh  spirits 
with  every  step. 

He  followed  the  trail  by  the  river.  Butterballs  and 
scoters  paddled  up  at  his  approach.  Bits  of  rotten  ice 
occasionally  swirled  down  the  diminishing  stream. 
The  sunshine  was  clear  and  bright,  but  silvery  rather 
than  golden,  as  though  a  little  of  the  winter's  snow,  — 
a  last  ethereal  incarnation,  —  had  lingered  in  its  sub- 
stance. Around  every  bend  Thorpe  looked  for  some 
of  Radway's  crew  "  driving  "  the  logs  down  the  cur- 
rent. He  knew  from  chance  encounters  with  several 
of  the  men  in  Bay  City  that  Radway  was  still  in  camp; 
which  meant,  of  course,  that  the  last  of  the  season's 
operations  were  not  yet  finished.  Five  miles  further 
Thorpe  began  to  wonder  whether  this  last  conclusion 
might  not  be  erroneous.  The  Cass  Branch  had 
shrunken  almost  to  its  original  limits.  Only  here  and 
there  a  little  bayou  or  marsh  attested  recent  freshets. 
The  drive  must  have  been  finished,  even  this  early, 
for  the  stream  in  its  present  condition  would  hardly 
float  saw  logs,  certainly  not  in  quantity. 

Thorpe,  puzzled,  walked  on.  At  the  banking 
ground  he  found  empty  skids.  Evidently  the  drive 

87 


88  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

was  over.  And  yet  even  to  Thorpe's  ignorance,  it 
seemed  incredible  that  the  remaining  million  and  a 
half  of  logs  had  been  hauled,  banked  and  driven  dur- 
ing the  short  time  he  had  lain  in  the  Bay  City  hos- 
pital. More  to  solve  the  problem  than  in  any  hope 
of  work,  he  set  out  up  the  logging  road. 

Another  three  miles  brought  him  to  camp.  It 
looked  strangely  wet  and  sodden  and  deserted.  In 
fact,  Thorpe  found  a  bare  half  dozen  people  in  it,  — 
Radway,  the  cook,  and  four  men  who  were  helping  to 
pack  up  the  movables,  and  who  later  would  drive  out 
the  wagons  containing  them.  The  jobber  showed 
strong  traces  of  the  strain  he  had  undergone,  but 
greeted  Thorpe  almost  jovially.  He  seemed  able  to 
show  more  of  his  real  nature  now  that  the  necessity 
of  authority  had  been  definitely  removed. 

"  Hullo,  young  man,"  he  shouted  at  Thorpe's  mud- 
splashed  figure,  "  come  back  to  view  the  remains  ?  All 
well  again,  heigh?  That's  good!  " 

He  strode  down  to  grip  the  young  fellow  heartily  by 
the  hand.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be  charmed  by  the 
sincere  cordiality  of  his  manner. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  through,"  explained 
Thorpe,  "  I  came  to  see  if  I  could  get  a  job." 

"  Well  now  I  am  sorry! "  cried  Radway,  "  you  can 
turn  in  and  help  though,  if  you  want  to." 

Thorpe  greeted  the  cook  and  old  Jackson  Hmes, 
the  only  two  whom  he  knew,  and  set  to  work  to  tie 
up  bundles  of  blankets,  and  to  collect  axes,  peavies, 
and  tools  of  all  descriptions.  This  was  evidently  the 
last  wagon-trip,  for  little  remained  to  be  done. 

"  I  ought  by  rights  to  take  the  lumber  of  the  roofs 
and  floors,"  observed  Radway  thoughtfully,  "  but  I 
guess  she  don't  matter." 

Thorpe  had  never  seen  him  in  better  spirits.  He 
ascribed  the  older  man's  hilarity  to  relief  over  the  com- 
pletion of  a  difficult  task.  That  evening  the  seven 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  89 

dined  together  at  one  end  of  the  long  table.  The  big 
room  exhaled  already  the  atmosphere  of  desertion. 

"Not  much  like  old  times,  is  she?"  laughed  Rad- 
way.  "  Can't  you  just  shut  your  eyes  and  hear  Bap- 
tiste  say, '  Mak'  heem  de  soup  one  tam  more  for  me  '  ? 
She's  pretty  empty  now." 

Jackson  Hines  looked  whimsically  down  the  bare 
board.  "  More  room  than  God  made  for  geese  in  Ire~ 
land,"  was  his  comment. 

After  supper  they  even  sat  outside  for  a  little  time 
to  smoke  their  pipes,  chair-tilted  against  the  logs  of 
the  cabins,  but  soon  the  chill  of  melting  snow  drove 
them  indoors.  The  four  teamsters  played  seven-up  in 
the  cook  camp  by  the  light  of  a  barn  lantern,  while 
Thorpe  and  the  cook  wrote  letters.  Thorpe's  was  to 
his  sister. 

"  I  have  been  in  the  hospital  for  about  a  month,"  he 
wrote.  "  Nothing  serious  —  a  crack  on  the  head, 
which  is  all  right  now.  But  I  cannot  get  home  this 
summer,  nor,  I  am  afraid,  can  we  arrange  about  the 
school  this  year.  I  am  about  seventy  dollars  ahead 
of  where  I  was  last  fall,  so  you  see  it  is  slow  business. 
This  summer  I  am  going  into  a  mill,  but  the  wages 
for  green  labor  are  not  very  high  there  either,"  and 
so  on. 

When  Miss  Helen  Thorpe,  aged  seventeen,  received 
this  document  she  stamped  her  foot  almost  angrily. 
"  You'd  think  he  was  a  day-laborer! "  she  cried. 
14  Why  doesn't  he  try  for  a  clerkship  or  something  in 
the  city  where  he'd  have  a  chance  to  use  his  brains!  " 

The  thought  of  her  big,  strong,  tanned  brother 
chained  to  a  desk  rose  to  her,  and  she  smiled  a  little 
sadly. 

"  I  know,"  she  went  on  to  herself,  "  he'd  rather  be 
a  common  laborer  in  the  woods  than  railroad  manager 
ifi  the  office.  He  loves  his  out-of-doors." 

"  Helen ! "  called  a  voice  from  below,  "  if  you're 


90  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

through  up  there,  I  wish  you'd  come  down  and  help 
me  carry  this  rug  out." 

The  girl's  eyes  cleared  with  a  snap. 

"  So  do  I !  "  she  cried  defiantly,  "  so  do  I  love  out- 
of-doors!  I  like  the  woods  and  the  fields  and  the 
trees  just  as  much  as  he  does,  only  differently;  but  / 
don't  get  out!" 

And  thus  she  came  to  feeling  rebelliously  that  her 
brother  had  been  a  little  selfish  in  his  choice  of  an 
occupation,  that  he  sacrificed  her  inclinations  to  his 
own.  She  did  not  guess,  —  how  could  she?  —  his 
dreams  for  her.  She  did  not  see  the  future  through 
his  thoughts,  but  through  his  words.  A  negative 
hopelessness  settled  down  on  her,  which  soon  her 
strong  spirit,  worthy  counterpart  of  her  brother's, 
changed  to  more  positive  rebellion.  Thorpe  had 
aroused  antagonism  where  he  craved  only  love.  The 
knowledge  of  that  fact  would  have  surprised  and  hurt 
him,  for  he  was  entirely  without  suspicion  of  it.  He 
lived  subjectively  to  so  great  a  degree  that  his  thoughts 
and  aims  took  on  a  certain  tangible  objectivity,  —  they 
became  so  real  to  him  that  he  quite  overlooked  the 
necessity  of  communication  to  make  them  as  real  to 
others.  He  assumed  unquestioningly  that  the  other 
must  know.  So  entirely  had  he  thrown  himself  into 
his  ambition  of  making  a  suitable  position  for  Helen, 
so  continually  had  he  dwelt  on  it  in  his  thoughts,  so 
earnestly  had  he  striven  for  it  in  every  step  of  the 
great  game  he  was  beginning  to  play,  that  it  never 
occurred  to  him  he  should  also  concede  a  definite  out- 
ward manifestation  of  his  feeling  in  order  to  assure 
its  acceptance.  Thorpe  believed  that  he  had  sacrificed 
every  thought  and  effort  to  his  sister.  Helen  was  be- 
coming convinced  that  he  had  considered  only  himself. 

After  finishing  the  letter  which  gave  occasion  to  this 
train  of  thought,  Thorpe  lit  his  pipe  and  strolled  out 
into  the  darkness.  Opposite  the  little  office  he  stopped 
amazed. 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  91 

Through  the  narrow  window  he  could  see  Radway 
seated  in  front  of  the  stove.  Every  attitude  of  the  man 
denoted  the  most  profound  dejection.  He  had  sunk 
down  into  his  chair  until  he  rested  on  almost  the  small 
of  his  back,  his  legs  were  struck  straight  out  in  front 
of  him,  his  chin  rested  on  his  breast,  and  his  two  'arms 
hung  listless  at  his  side,  a  pipe  half  falling  from  the 
fingers  of  one  hand.  All  the  facetious  lines  had 
turned  to  pathos.  In  his  face  sorrowed  the  anxious, 
questing,  wistful  look  of  .the  St.  Bernard  that  does  not 
understand. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  boss,  anyway?  "  asked 
Thorpe  in  a  low  voice  of  Jackson  Hines,  when  the 
seven-up  game  was  finished. 

"  H'aint  ye  heard?  "  inquired  the  old  man  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Why,  no.     What?" 

"  Busted,"  said  the  old  man  sententiously. 

"  How?    What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  What  I  say.  He's  busted.  That  freshet  caught 
him  too  quick.  They's  more'n  a  million  and  a  half 
logs  left  in  the  woods  that  can't  be  got  out  this  year, 
and  as  his  contract  calls  for  a  finished  job,  he  don't  get 
nothin'  for  what  he's  done." 

"  That's  a  queer  rig,"  commented  Thorpe.  "  He's 
done  a  lot  of  valuable  work  here,  —  the  timber's  cut 
and  skidded,  anyway;  and  he's  delivered  a  good  deal 
of  it  to  the  main  drive.  The  M.  &  D.  outfit  get  all  the 
advantage  of  that." 

"  They  do,  my  son.  When  old  Daly's  hand  gets 
near  anything,  it  cramps.  I  don't  know  how  the  old 
man  come  to  make  such  a  contrac',  but  he  did.  Re- 
sult is,  he's  out  his  expenses  and  time." 

To  understand  exactly  the  catastrophe  that  had  oc- 
curred, it  is  necessary  to  follow  briefly  an  outline  of 
the  process  after  the  logs  have  been  piled  on  the  banks. 
There  they  remain  until  the  break-up  attendant  on 


92  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

spring  shall  flood  the  stream  to  a  freshet.  The  roll- 
ways  are  then  broken,  and  the  saw  logs  floated  down 
the  river  to  the  mill  where  they  are  to  be  cut  into 
lumber. 

If  for  any  reason  this  transportation  by  water  is  de- 
layed until  the  flood  goes  down,  the  logs  are  stranded 
or  left  in  pools.  Consequently  every  logger  puts  into 
the  two  or  three  weeks  of  freshet  water  a  feverish  ac- 
tivity which  shall  carry  his  product  through  before  the 
ebb. 

The  exceptionally  early  break-up  of  this  spring, 
combined  with  the  fact  that,  owing  to  the  series  of 
incidents  and  accidents  already  sketched,  the  actual 
cutting  and  skidding  had  fallen  so  far  behind,  caught 
Radway  unawares.  He  saw  his  rollways  breaking  out 
while  his  teams  were  still  hauling  in  the  woods.  In 
order  to  deliver  to  the  mouth  of  the  Cass  Branch  the 
three  million  already  banked,  he  was  forced  to  drop 
everything  else  and  attend  strictly  to  the  drive.  This 
left  still,  as  has  been  stated,  a  million  and  a  half  on 
skidways,  which  Radway  knew  he  would  be  unable  to 
get  out  that  year. 

In  spite  of  the  jobber's  certainty  that  his  claim  was 
thus  annulled,  and  that  he  might  as  well  abandon  the 
enterprise  entirely  for  all  he  would  ever  get  out  of  it, 
he  finished  the  "  drive  "  conscientiously  and  saved  to 
the  Compcny  the  logs  already  banked.  Then  he  had 
interviewed  Daly.  The  latter  refused  to  pay  him  one 
cent.  Nothing  remained  but  to  break  camp  and  grin 
as  best  he  might  over  the  loss  of  his  winter's  work 
and  expenses. 

The  next  day  Radway  and  Thorpe  walked  the  ten 
miles  of  the  river  trail  together,  while  the  teamsters 
and  the  cook  drove  down  the  five  teams.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  solitude  and  a  certain  sympathy  which 
Thorpe  manifested,  Radway  talked  —  a  very  little, 

"  I  got  behind;  that's  all  there  is  to  it,"  he  said.     "  I 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 


s'pose  I  ought  to  have  driven  the  men  a  little;  but  still, 
I  don't  know.  It  gets  pretty  cold  on  the  plains.  I 
guess  I  bit  off  more  than  I  could  chew." 

His  eye  followed  listlessly  a  frenzied  squirrel  swing- 
ing from  the  tops  of  poplars. 

"  I  wouldn't  'a  done  it  for  myself,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
don't  like  the  confounded  responsibility.  They's  too 
much  worry  connected  with  it  all.  I  had  a  good  snug 
little  stake  —  mighty  nigh  six  thousand.  She's  all 
gone  now.  That'd  have  been  enough  for  me  —  I  ain't 
a  drinkin'  man.  But  then  there  was  the  woman  and 
the  kid.  This  ain't  no  country  for  woman-folks,  and  I 
wanted  t'  take  little  Lida  out  o'  here.  I  had  lots  of 
experience  in  the  woods,  and  I've  seen  men  make  big 
money  time  and  again,  who  didn't  know  as  much  about 
it  as  I  do.  But  they  got  there,  somehow.  Says  I,  I'll 
make  a  stake  this  year  —  I'd  a  had  twelve  thousand  in 
th'  bank,  if  things'd  have  gone  right  —  and  then  we'll 
jest  move  down  around  Detroit  an'  I'll  put  Lida  in 
school." 

Thorpe  noticed  a  break  in  the  man's  voice,  and 
glancing  suddenly  toward  him  was  astounded  to  catch 
his  eyes  brimming  with  tears.  Radway  perceived  the 
surprise. 

"  You  know  when  I  left  Christmas?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes/' 

"  I  was  gone  two  weeks,  and  them  two  weeks  done 
me.  We  was  going  slow  enough  before,  God  knows, 
but  even  with  the  rank  weather  and  all,  I  think  we'd 
have  won  out,  if  we  could  have  held  the  same  gait." 

Radway  paused.    Thorpe  was  silent. 

"The  boys  thought  it  was  a  mighty  poor  rig,  my 
leaving  that  way." 

He  paused  again  in  evident  expectation  of  a  reply. 
Again  Thorpe  was  silent. 

*  Didn't  they?  "  Radway  insisted. 

"  Yes,  they  did,"  answered  Thorpe. 


94  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  older  man  sighed.  "  I  thought  so,"  he  went  on. 
"  Well,  I  didn't  go  to  spend  Christmas.  I  went  be- 
cause Jimmy  brought  me  a  telegram  that  Lida  was  sick 
with  diphtheria.  I  sat  up  nights  with  her  for  'leven 
days." 

"  No  bad  after-effects,  I  hope?  "  inquired  Thorpe. 

"  She  died,"  said  Radway  simply. 

The  two  men  tramped  stolidly  on.  This  was  too 
great  an  affair  for  Thorpe  to  approach  except  on  the 
knees  of  his  spirit.  After  a  long  interval,  during 
which  the  waters  had  time  to  still,  the  young  man 
changed  the  subject. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  get  anything  out  of  M.  & 
D.?"  he  asked. 

"  No.  Didn't  earn  nothing.  I  left  a  lot  of  their  saw 
logs  hung  up  in  the  woods,  where  they'll  deteriorate 
from  rot  and  worms.  This  is  their  last  season  in  this 
district." 

"Got  anything  left?" 

"  Not  a  cent." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Do! "  cried  the  old  woodsman,  the  fire  springing 
to  his  eye.  "  Do!  I'm  going  into  the  woods,  by  God! 
I'm  going  to  work  with  my  hands,  and  be  happy!  I'm 
going  to  do  other  men's  work  for  them  and  take  other 
men's  pay.  Let  them  do  the  figuring  and  worrying. 
Ill  boss  their  gangs  and  make  their  roads  and  see  to 
their  logging  for  'em,  but  it's  got  to  be  theirs.  Do! 
I'm  going  to  be  a  free  man  by  the  G.  jumping 
Moses!" 


Chapter   XIV 


rHORPE  dedicated  a  musing  instant  to  the  in- 
congruity of  rejoicing  over  a  freedom  gained 
by  ceasing  to  be  master  and  becoming  servant. 

"  Radway,"  said  he  suddenly,  "  I  need  money  and 
I  need  it  bad.  I  think  you  ought  to  get  something 
out  of  this  job  of  the  M.  &  D.  —  not  much,  but  some- 
thing. Will  you  give  me  a  share  of  what  I  can  collect 
from  them  ?  " 

"  Sure !  "  agreed  the  jobber  readily,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Sure !  But  you  won't  get  anything.  I'll  give  you 
ten  per  cent  quick." 

"  Good  enough !  "  cried  Thorpe. 

"  But  don't  be  too  sure  you'll  earn  day  wages  doing 
it,"  warned  the  other.  "  I  saw  Daly  when  I  was  down 
here  last  week." 

"  My  time's  not  valuable,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  Now 
when  we  get  to  town  I  want  your  power  of  attorney 
and  a  few  figures,  after  which  I  will  not  bother  you 
again." 

The  next  day  the  young  man  called  for  the  second 
time  at  the  little  red-painted  office  under  the  shadow 
of  the  mill,  and  for  the  second  time  stood  before  the 
bulky  power  of  the  junior  member  of  the  firm. 

"  Well,  young  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you?  "  asked 
the  latter. 

"  I  have  been  informed,"  said  Thorpe  without  pre- 
liminary, "  that  you  intend  to  pay  John  Radway  noth- 
ing for  the  work  done  on  the  Cass  Branch  this  winter. 
Is  that  true?  " 

Daly  studied  his  antagonist  meditatively.  "  If  it  is 
true,  what  is  it  to  you?  "  he  asked  at  length. 

95 


96  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

'  I  am  acting  in  Mr.  Radway's  interest." 

'  You  are  one  of  Radway's  men?  " 

'  Yes." 

'  In  what  capacity  have  you  been  working  for  him?  " 

'  Cant-hook  man,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

'  I  see,"  said  Daly  slowly.  Then  suddenly,  with  an 
intensity  of  energy  that  startled  Thorpe,  he  cried: 
"  Now  you  get  out  of  here!  Right  off!  Quick!  " 

The  younger  man  recognized  the  compelling  and 
autocratic  boss  addressing  a  member  of  the  crew. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind!  "  he  replied  with  a 
flash  of  fire. 

The  mill-owner  leaped  to  his  feet  every  inch  a  leader 
of  men.  Thorpe  did  not  wish  to  bring  about  an  actual 
scene  of  violence.  He  had  attained  his  object,  which 
was  to  fluster  the  other  out  of  his  judicial  calm. 

"  I  have  Radway's  power  of  attorney,"  he  added. 

Daly  sat  down,  controlled  himself  with  an  effort,  and 
growled  out,  "  Why  didn't  you  say  so?  " 

"  Now  I  would  like  to  know  your  position,"  went  on 
Thorpe.  "  I  am  not  here  to  make  trouble,  but  as  an 
associate  of  Mr.  Radway,  I  have  a  right  to  understand 

the  case.  Of  course  I  have  his  side  of  the  story ," 

he  suggested,  as  though  convinced  that  a  detailing  of 
the  other  side  might  change  his  views. 

Daly  considered  carefully,  fixing  his  flint-blue  eyes 
unswervingly  on  Thorpe's  face.  Evidently  his  scrutiny 
advised  him  that  the  young  man  was  a  force  to  be 
reckoned  with. 

"  It's  like  this,"  said  he  abruptly,  "  we  contracted 
last  fall  with  this  man  Radway  to  put  in  five  million 
feet  of  our  timber,  delivered  to  the  main  drive  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Cass  Branch.  In  this  he  was  to  act  in- 
dependently except  as  to  the  matter  of  provisions. 
Those  he  drew  from  our  van,  and  was  debited  with  the 
amount  of  the  same.  Is  that  clear?  " 

44  Perfectly,"  replied  Thorpe. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  97 

"  In  return  we  were  to  pay  him,  merchantable  scale, 
four  dollars  a  thousand.  If,  however,  he  failed  to  pu* 
in  the  whole  job,  the  contract  was  void." 

"  That's  how  I  understand  it,"  commented  Thorpe, 
"Well?" 

"  Well,  he  didn't  get  in  the  five  million.  There's  a 
million  and  a  half  hung  up  in  the  woods." 

"  But  you  have  in  your  hands  three  million  and  a 
half,  which  under  the  present  arrangement  you  get  free 
of  any  charge  whatever." 

"  And  we  ought  to  get  it,"  cried  Daly.  "  Great 
guns!  Here  we  intend  to  saw  this  summer  and  quit. 
We  want  to  get  in  every  stick  of  timber  we  own  so 
as  to  be  able  to  clear  out  of  here  for  good  and  all  at 
the  close  of  the  season ;  and  now  this  condigned  jobber 
ties  us  up  for  a  million  and  a  half." 

"  It  is  exceedingly  annoying,"  conceded  Thorpe, 
"  and  it  is  a  good  deal  of  Radway's  fault,  I  am  willing 
to  admit,  but  it's  your  fault  too." 

"  To  be  sure,"  replied  Daly  with  the  accent  of  sar- 
casm. 

"  You  had  no  business  entering  into  any  such  con- 
tract. It  gave  him  no  show." 

"  I  suppose  that  was  mainly  his  lookout,  wasn't  it? 
and  as  I  already  told  you,  we  had  to  protect  ourselves." 

"  You  should  have  demanded  security  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  work.  Under  your  present  agreement, 
if  Radway  got  in  the  timber,  you  were  to  pay  him  a 
fair  price.  If  he  didn't,  you  appropriated  everything 
he  had  already  done.  In  other  words,  you  made  him 
a  bet." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call  it,"  answered  Daly,  who 
had  recovered  his  good-humor  in  contemplation  of 
the  security  of  his  position.  "  The  fact  stands  aB 
right." 

It  does,"  replied  Thorpe  unexpectedly,  "  and  I'm 
glad  of  it     Now  let's  examine  a  few  figures.     You 


98  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

owned  five  million  feet  of  timber,  which  at  the  price 
of  stumpage  "  (standing  trees)  "  was  worth  ten  thou- 
sand dollars." 

"  Well." 

"  You  come  out  at  the  end  of  the  season  with  three 
million  and  a  half  of  saw  logs,  which  with  the  four 
dollars'  worth  of  logging  added,  are  worth  twenty-one 
thousand  dollars." 

"Hold  on!"  cried  Daly,  "we  paid  Radway  four 
dollars;  we  could  have  done  it  ourselves  for  less." 

"  You  could  not  have  done  it  for  one  cent  less  than 
four-twenty  in  that  country,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  as  any 
expert  will  testify." 

"  Why  did  we  give  it  to  Radway  at  four,  then?  " 

"  You  saved  the  expense  of  a  salaried  overseer,  and 
yourselves  some  bother,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  Radway 
could  do  it  for  less,  because,  for  some  strange  reason 
which  you  yourself  do  not  understand,  a  jobber  can 
always  log  for  less  than  a  company." 

"  We  could  have  done  it  for  four,"  insisted  Daly 
stubbornly,  "  but  get  on.  What  are  you  driving  at? 
My  time's  valuable." 

"  Well,  put  her  at  four,  then,"  agreed  Thorpe. 
"  That  makes  your  saw  logs  worth  over  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars.  Of  this  value  Radway  added  thirteen 
thousand.  You  have  appropriated  that  much  of  his 
without  paying  him  one  cent." 

Daly  seemed  amused.  "  How  about  the  million  and 
a  half  feet  of  ours  he  appropriated?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"  I'm  coming  to  that.  Now  for  your  losses.  At  th« 
stumpage  rate  your  million  and  a  half  which  Radway 
'  appropriated '  would  be  only  three  thousand.  But 
for  the  sake  of  argument,  we'll  take  the  actual  sum 
you'd  have  received  for  saw  logs.  Even  then  the  mil- 
lion and  a  half  would  only  have  been  worth  between 
eight  and  nine  thousand.  Deducting  this  purely  theo- 
retical loss,  Radway  has  occasioned  you,  from  the 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  99 

amount  he  has  gained  for  you,  you  are  still  some  four 
or  five  thousand  ahead  of  the  game.  For  that  you 
paid  him  nothing." 

"  That's  Radway's  lookout." 

"  In  justice  you  should  pay  him  that  amount.  He 
is  a  poor  man.  He  has  sunk  all  he  owned  in  this  vent- 
ure, some  twelve  thousand  dollars,  and  he  has  noth- 
ing to  live  on.  Even  if  you  pay  him  five  thousand, 
he  has  lost  considerable,  while  you  have  gained." 

"  How  have  we  gained  by  this  bit  of  philanthropy?  " 

"  Because  you  originally  paid  in  cash  for  all  that 
timber  on  the  stump  just  ten  thousand  dollars  and  you 
get  from  Radway  saw  logs  to  the  value  of  twenty," 
replied  Thorpe  sharply.  "  Besides  you  still  own  the 
million  and  a  half  which,  if  you  do  not  care  to  put  them 
in  yourself,  you  can  sell  for  something  on  the  skids." 

"  Don't  you  know,  young  man,  that  white  pine  logs 
on  skids  will  spoil  utterly  in  a  summer?  Worms  get 
into  'em." 

"  I  do,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  unless  you  bark  them; 
which  process  will  cost  you  about  one  dollar  a  thou- 
sand. You  can  find  any  amount  of  small  purchasers 
at  reduced  price.  You  can  sell  them  easily  at  three 
dollars.  That  nets  you  for  your  million  and  a  half  i 
little  over  four  thousand  dollars  more.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances, I  do  not  think  that  my  request  for  five 
thousand  is  at  all  exorbitant." 

Daly  laughed.  "  You  are  a  shrewd  figurer,  and 
your  remarks  are  interesting,"  said  he. 

"  Will  you  give  five  thousand  dollars? "  asked 
Thorpe. 

"  I  will  not,"  replied  Daly,  then  with  a  sudden 
change  of  humor,  "  and  now  I'll  do  a  little  talking. 
I've  listened  to  you  just  as  long  as  I'm  going  to.  I 
have  Radway's  contract  in  that  safe  and  I  live  up  to 
it  I'll  thank  you  to  go  plumb  to  hell !  " 

"  That's  your  last  word,  is  it?  "  asked  Thorpe,  risiag. 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  It  is." 

"  Then,"  said  he  slowly  and  distinctly,  "  I'll  tell  you 
what  /'//  do.  I  intend  to  collect  in  full  the  four  dollars 
a  thousand  for  the  three  million  and  a  half  Mr.  Rad- 
way  has  delivered  to  you.  In  return  Mr.  Radway  will 
purchase  of  you  at  the  stumpage  rates  of  two  dollars 
a  thousand  the  million  and  a  half  he  failed  to  put  in. 
That  makes  a  bill  against  you,  if  my  figuring  is  cor- 
rect, of  just  eleven  thousand  dollars.  You  will  pay 
that  bill,  and  I  will  tell  you  why:  your  contract  will 
be  classed  in  any  court  as  a  gambling  contract  for  lack 
of  consideration.  You  have  no  legal  standing  in  the 
world.  I  call  your  bluff,  Mr.  Daly,  and  I'll  fight  you 
from  the  drop  of  the  hat  through  every  court  in 
Christendom." 

"  Fight  ahead,"  advised  Daly  sweetly,__who  knew 
perfectly  well  that  Thorpe's  law  was  faulty.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  the  young  man  could  have  collected  on  other 
grounds,  but  neither  was  aware  of  that. 

"  Furthermore,"  pursued  Thorpe  in  addition,  "  111 
repeat  my  offer  before  witnesses;  and  if  I  win  the  first 
suit,  I'll  sue  you  for  the  money  we  could  have  made 
by  purchasing  the  extra  million  and  a  half  before  it 
had  a  chance  to  spoil." 

This  statement  had  its  effect,  for  it  forced  an  im- 
mediate settlement  before  the  pine  on  the  skids  should 
deteriorate.  Daly  lounged  back  with  a  little  more 
deadly  carelessness. 

"  And,  lastly,"  concluded  Thorpe,  playing  his  trump 
card,  "  the  suit  from  start  to  finish  will  be  published 
in  every  important  paper  in  this  country.  If  you  do 
not  believe  I  have  the  influence  to  do  this,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  doubt  the  fact." 

Daly  was  cogitating  many  things.  He  knew  that 
publicity  was  the  last  thing  to  be  desired.  Thorpe's 
statement  had  been  made  in  view  of  the  fact  that  much 
of  the  business  of  a  lumber  firm  is  done  on  credit.  He 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

thought  that  perhaps  a  rumor  of  a  big  suit  going 
against  the  firm  might  weaken  confidence.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  this  consideration  had  no  weight  whatevek 
with  the  older  man,  although  the  threat  of  publicity 
actually  gained  for  Thorpe  what  he  demanded.  The 
lumberman  feared  the  noise  of  an  investigation  solely 
and  simply  because  his  firm,  like  so  many  others,  was 
engaged  at  the  time  in  stealing  government  timber  in 
the  upper  peninsula.  He  did  not  call  it  stealing;  but 
that  was  what  it  amounted  to.  Thorpe's  shot  in  the 
air  hit  full. 

"  I  think  we  can  arrange  a  basis  of  settlement,"  he 
said  finally.  "  Be  here  to-morrow  morning  at  ten  with 
Radway." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  Daly,  "  I  don't  believe  I 
know  your  name?" 

**  Thorpe,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  said  the  lumberman  with  cold 
anger,  "  if  at  any  time  there  is  anything  within  my 
power  or  influence  that  you  want  —  I'll  see  that  you 
don't  get  it." 


Chapter  XV 

rHE  whole  affair  was  finally  compromised  to* 
nine  thousand  dollars.      Radway,  grateful  be- 
yond expression,  insisted  on  Thorpe's  accept- 
ance of  an  even  thousand  of  it.    With  this  money  in 
hand,  the  latter  felt  justified  in  taking  a  vacation  for 
the  purpose  of  visiting  his  sister,  so  in  two  days  aftel 
the  signing  of  the  check  he  walked  up  the  straight 
garden  path  that  led  to  Renwick's  home. 

It  was  a  little  painted  frame  house,  back  from  the 
street,  fronted  by  a  precise  bit  of  lawn,  with  a  willow 
bush  at  one  corner.  A  white  picket  fence  effectually 
separated  it  from  a  broad,  shaded,  not  unpleasing 
street.  An  osage  hedge  and  a  board  fence  respective!) 
bounded  the  side  and  back. 

Under  the  low  porch  Thorpe  rang  the  bell  at  a  door 
flanked  by  two  long,  narrow  strips  of  imitation  stained 
glass.  He  entered  then  a  little  dark  hall  from  which 
the  stairs  rose  almost  directly  at  the  door,  containing 
with  difficulty  a  hat-rack  and  a  table  on  which  rested 
a  card  tray  with  cards.  In  the  course  of  greeting  an 
elderly  woman,  he  stepped  into  the  parlor.  This  was 
a  small  square  apartment  carpeted  in  dark  Brussels, 
and  stuffily  glorified  in  the  bourgeois  manner  by  a 
white  marble  mantel-piece,  several  pieces  of  mahogany 
furniture  upholstered  in  haircloth,  a  table  on  which 
reposed  a  number  of  gift  book*-  in  celluloid  and  other 
fancy  bindings,  an  old-fashioned  piano  with  a  doily 
and  a  bit  of  china  statuary,  a  cabinet  or  so  containing 
such  things  as  ore  specimens,  dried  seaweed  and  coins, 
and  a  spindle-legged  table  or  two  upholding  glass  cases 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  103 

garnished  with  stuffed  birds  and  wax  flowers.  The 
ceiling  was  so  low  that  the  heavy  window  hangings 
depended  almost  from  the  angle  of  it  and  the  walls. 

Thorpe,  by  some  strange  freak  of  psychology,  sud- 
denly recalled  a  wild,  windy  day  in  the  forest.  He  had 
stood  on  the  top  of  a  height.  He  saw  again  the  sharp 
puffs  of  snow,  exactly  like  the  smoke  from  bursting 
shells,  where  a  fierce  swoop  of  the  storm  struck  the 
laden  tops  of  pines ;  the  dense  swirl,  again  exactly  like 
smoke  but  now  of  a  great  fire,  that  marked  the  lakes. 
The  picture  super-imposed  itself  silently  over  this 
stuffy  bourgeois  respectability,  like  the  shadow  of  a 
dream.  He  heard  plainly  enough  the  commonplace 
drawl  of  the  woman  before  him  offering  him  the  plati- 
tudes of  her  kind. 

"  You  are  lookin*  real  well,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  she  was 
saying,  "  an'  I  just  know  Helen  will  be  glad  to  see  you. 
She  had  a  hull  afternoon  out  to-day  and  won't  be  back 
to  tea.  Dew  set  and  tell  me  about  what  you've  been 
a-doin*  and  how  you're  a-gettin'  along." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Renwick,"  he  replied,  "  I'D 
come  back  later.  How  is  Helen?" 

"She's  purty  well;  and  sech  a  nice  girl  I  think 
ihe's  getting  right  handsome." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  she  went?  ** 

But  Mrs.  Renwick  did  not  know.  So  Thorpe  wan- 
dered about  the  maple-shaded  streets  of  the  little  town. 

For  the  purposes  he  had  in  view  five  hundred  dol- 
lars would  be  none  too  much.  The  remaining  five 
hundred  he  had  resolved  to  invest  in  his  sister's  com- 
fort and  happiness.  He  had  thought  the  matter  over 
and  come  to  his  decision  in  that  secretive,  careful 
fashion  so  typical  of  him,  working  over  every  logical 
step  of  his  induction  so  thoroughly  that  it  ended  by 
becoming  part  of  his  mental  fiber.  So  when  he 
reached  the  conclusion  it  had  already  become  to  him 
an  axionx  In  presenting  it  as  such  to  his  sister,  be 


104         THE  BLAZF:D  TRAIL 

never  realized  that  she  had  not  followed  with  him  thtf 
logical  steps,  and  so  could  hardly  be  expected  to  ac- 
cept the  conclusion  out-of-hand. 

Thorpe  wished  to  give  his  sister  the  best  education 
possible  in  the  circumstances.  She  was  now  nearly 
eighteen  years  old.  He  knew  likewise  that  he  would 
probably  experience  a  great  deal  of  difficulty  in  finding 
another  family  which  would  afford  the  young  girl 
quite  the  same  equality  coupled  with  so  few  disadvan- 
tages. Admitted  that  its  level  of  intellect  and  taste 
was  not  high,  Mrs.  Renwick  was  on  the  whole  a  good 
influence.  Helen  had  not  hi  the  least  the  position  of 
servant,  but  of  a  daughter.  She  helped  around  the 
house ;  and  in  return  she  was  fed,  lodged  and  clothed 
(or  nothing. 

So  though  the  money  might  have  enabled  Helen  to 
live  independently  hi  a  modest  way  for  a  year  or  so, 
Thorpe  preferred  that  she  remain  where  she  was.  His 
game  was  too  much  a  game  of  chance.  He  might  mid 
Himself  at  the  end  of  the  year  without  further  means. 
Above  all  things  he  wished  to  assure  Helen's  material 
safety  until  such  time  as  he  should  be  quite  certain  of 
himself. 

In  pursuance  of  this  idea  he  had  gradually  evolved 
what  seemed  to  him  an  excellent  plan.  He  had  al- 
ready perfected  it  by  correspondence  with  Mrs.  Ren- 
wick.  It  was,  briefly,  this:  he,  Thorpe,  would  at  once 
lure  a  servant  girl,  who  would  make  anything  but 
supervision  unnecessary  in  so  small  a  household.  The 
remainder  of  the  money  he  had  already  paid  for  a 
year's  tuition  in  the  Seminary  of  the  town.  Thus 
Helen  gained  her  leisure  and  an  opportunity  for  study; 
and  still  retained  her  home  in  case  of  reverse. 

Thorpe  found  his  sister  already  a  young  lady.  After 
tiie  first  delight  of  meeting  had  passed,  they  sat  aid* 
by  side  on  the  haircloth  sofa  and  took  stock  of 
other. 


Helen  had  developed  from  the  school  child  to  the 
woman.  She  was  a  handsome  girl,  possessed  of  9 
rfender,  well-rounded  form,  deep  hazel  eyes  with  the 
level  gaze  of  her  brother,  a  clean-cut  patrician  face, 
and  a  thorough-bred  neatness  of  carriage  that  adver- 
tised her  good  blood.  Altogether  a  figure  rather 
aloof,  a  face  rather  impassive;  but  with  the  possibility 
of  passion  and  emotion,  and  a  will  to  back  them. 

"  Oh,  but  you're  tanned  and  —  and  bigt "  she  cried* 
kissing  her  brother.  "  You've  had  such  a  strange 
winter,  haven't  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  absently. 

Another  man  would  have  struck  her  young  imag- 
ination with  the  wild,  free  thrill  of  the  wilderness. 
Thus  he  would  have  gained  her  sympathy  and  under- 
standing. Thorpe  was  too  much  in  earnest. 

"  Things  came  a  little  better  than  I  thought  they 
were  going  to,  toward  the  last,"  said  he,  '*  and  I  made 
a  little  money." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  she  cried.    "Was  it  much?" 

"  No,  not  much,"  he  answered.  The  actual  figures 
would  have  been  so  much  better!  "  I've  made  ar- 
rangements with  Mrs.  Renwick  to  hire  a  servant  girl, 
so  you  will  have  all  your  time  free ;  and  I  have  paid  a 
year's  tuition  for  you  in  the  Seminary." 

"Oh!"  said  the  girl,  and  fell  silent. 

After  a  time,  "  Thank  you  very  much,  Harry  dear,* 
Then  after  another  interval, "  I  think  I'll  go  get  ready 
for  supper." 

Instead  of  getting  ready  for  supper,  she  paced  ex- 
citedly up  and  down  her  room. 

"  Oh,  why  didn't  he  say  what  he  was  about  ?  *  she 
cried  to  herself.  "  Why  didn't  he !  Why  didn't  he  I" 

Next  morning  she  opened  the  subject  again. 

"  Harry,  dear,"  said  she,  "  I  have  a  little  scheme, 
and  I  want  to  see  if  it  is  not  feasible.  How  much  wiQ 
tfee  girl  and  the  Seminary  cost?" 


tot  THE   BLAZED   THAR 

*  About  four  hundred  dollars.** 

"  Well  now,  see,  dear.  With  four  hundred  dollar* 
I  can  live  for  a  year  very  nicely  by  boarding  with 
•ome  girls  I  know  who  live  in  a  sort  of  a  club; 
and  I  could  learn  much  more  by  going  to  the  High 
School  and  continuing  with  some  other  classes  I 
am  interested  in  now.  Why  see,  Harry!"  she  cried, 
all  interest.  "  We  have  Professor  Carghill  come  twice 
a  week  to  teach  us  English,  and  Professor  Johns,  who 
teaches  us  history,  and  we  hope  to  get  one  or  two 
more  this  winter.  If  I  go  to  the  Seminary,  111  have 
to  miss  all  that  And  Harry,  really  I  don't  want  to 
go  to  the  Seminary.  I  don't  think  I  should  like  it 
I  know  I  shouldn't." 

"  But  why  not  live  here,  Helen?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  I'm  tired  of  it! "  she  cried;  "  sick  to  the 
soul  of  the  stuffiness,  and  the  glass  cases,  and  the  — 
the  goodness  of  it!" 

Thorpe  remembered  his  vision  of  the  wild,  wind* 
tossed  pines,  and  sighed.  He  wanted  very,  very  much 
to  act  in  accordance  with  his  sister's  desires,  although 
he  winced  under  the  sharp  hurt  pang  of  the  sensitive 
man  whose  intended  kindness  is  not  appreciated.  The 
impossibility  of  complying,  however,  reacted  to  shut 
his  real  ideas  and  emotions  the  more  inscrutably 
within  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  would  not  find  the  girls'  boarding- 
club  scheme  a  good  one,  Helen,"  said  he.  "  You'd 
find  it  would  work  better  in  theory  than  in  practice.* 

"  But  it  has  worked  with  the  other  girls!  "  she  cried 

"  I  think  you  would  be  better  off  here." 

Helen  bravely  choked  back  her  disappointment. 

"  I  might  live  here,  but  let  the  Seminary  drop,  any- 
way. That  would  save  a  good  deal,"  she  begged 
"  I'd  get  quite  as  much  good  out  of  my  work  outside, 
and  then  we'd  have  all  that  money  besides." 

"I  don't  know;  I'll  see,"  replied  Thorpe.    "Tha 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  107 

mental  discipline  of  class-room  work  might  be  a  good 
thing." 

He  had  already  thought  of  this  modification  him- 
self, but  with  his  characteristic  caution,  threw  cold 
water  on  the  scheme  until  he  could  ascertain  definitely 
whether  or  not  it  was  practicable.  He  had  already 
paid  the  tuition  for  the  year,  and  was  in  doubt  as  to 
its  repayment.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  negotiation 
took  about  two  weeks. 

During  that  time  Helen  Thorpe  went  through  her 
disappointment  and  emerged  on  the  other  side.  Her 
nature  was  at  once  strong  and  adaptable.  One  by  one 
she  grappled  with  the  different  aspects  of  the  case, 
and  turned  them  the  other  way.  By  a  tour  de  force 
she  actually  persuaded  herself  that  her  own  plan  was 
not  really  attractive  to  her.  But  what  heart-breaks 
and  tears  this  cost  her,  only  those  who  in  their  youth 
have  encountered  such  absolute  negations  of  cherished 
ideas  can  guess. 

Then  Thorpe  told  her. 

"  I've  fixed  it,  Helen,"  said  he.  "  Yon  can  attend 
the  High  School  and  the  classes,  if  you  please.  I  have 
put  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  out  at  interest 
for  you." 

"  Oh,  Harry! "  she  cried  reproachfully. "  Why  didnt 
you  tell  me  before  1 " 

He  did  not  understand;  but  the  pleasure  o!  it  had 
all  faded.  She  no  longer  felt  enthusiasm,  nor  grati- 
tude, nor  anything  except  a  dull  feeling  that  she  had 
been  unnecessarily  discouraged.  And  on  his  sidt» 
Thorpe  was  vaguely  wounded. 

The  days,  however,  passed  in  the  main  pleasurably 
for  them  both.  They  were  fond  of  one  another.  The 
barrier  slowly  rising  between  them  was  not  yet 
cemented  by  lack  of  affection  on  either  side,  but 
father  by  lack  of  belief  in  the  other's  affection,  Helen 
taiagined  Thorpe's  interest  in  her  becoming  daily  mar* 


io8  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

perfunctory.  Thorpe  fancied  his  sister  cold,  unreasoa 
ing,  and  ungrateful.  As  yet  this  was  but  the  vague 
dust  of  a  cloud.  They  could  not  forget  that,  but  for 
each  other,  they  were  alone  in  the  world.  Thorpe 
delayed  his  departure  from  day  to  day,  making  all 
the  preparations  he  possibly  could  at  home. 

Finally  Helen  came  on  him  busily  unpacking  a 
box  which  a  dray  had  left  at  the  door.  He  unwound 
and  laid  one  side  a  Winchester  rifle,  a  variety  of  fishing 
tackle,  and  some  other  miscellanies  of  the  woodsman. 
Helen  was  struck  by  the  beauty  of  the  sporting  imple- 
ments. 

"  Oh,  Harry! H  she  cried,  "  aren't  they  fine!  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Going  camping,"  replied  Thorpe,  his  head  in  the 
excelsior. 

"When?" 

"This  summer." 

Helen's  eyes  lit  up  with  a  fire  of  delight  **  How 
nice!  May  I  go  with  you?"  she  cried. 

Thorpe  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  little  girl.  It's  going  to  be  a  hard 
trip  a  long  ways  from  anywhere.  You  couldn't  stand 
it* 

Trn  sure  I  could.    Try  me." 

*  No,"  replied  Thorpe.  **  I  know  you  couldn't 
Well  be  sleeping  on  the  ground  and  going  on  foot 
through  much  extremely  difficult  country." 

"  I  wish  you'd  take  me  somewhere,"  pursued  Helen. 
"  I  can't  get  away  this  summer  unless  you  do.  Why 
don't  you  camp  somewhere  nearer  home,  so  I  can 
go?" 

Thorpe  arose  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  He  was  ex- 
tremely sorry  that  he  could  not  spend  the  summer  with 
his  sister,  but  he  believed  likewise  that  their  future 
depended  to  a  great  extent  on  this  very  trip.  But  be 
iia  not  tay  «x 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

""I  can't,  little  girl;  that's  all  We've  got  our  way 
to  make." 

She  understood  that  he  considered  the  trip  too  ex- 
pensive for  them  both.    At  this  moment  a  paper  flut 
tered  from  the  excelsior.    She  picked  it  up.    A  glance 
showed  her  a  total  of  figures  that  made  her  gasp. 

"  Here  is  your  bill,"  she  said  with  a  strange  choke 
hi  her  voice,  and  left  the  room. 

*'  He  can  spend  sixty  dollars  on  his  old  guns ;  but 
he  can't  afford  to  let  me  leave  this  hateful  house," 
she  complained  to  the  apple  tree.  "  He  can  go  'way 
off  camping  somewhere  to  have  a  good  time,  but  he 
leaves  me  sweltering  in  this  miserable  little  town  all 
summer.  I  don't  care  if  he  is  supporting  me.  He 
ought  to.  He's  my  brother.  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a 
man;  I  wish  I  were  dead!" 

Three  days  later  Thorpe  left  for  the  north.  He 
was  reluctant  to  go.  When  the  time  came,  he  at- 
tempted to  kiss  Helen  good-by.  She  caught  sight  of 
the  rifle  in  its  new  leather  and  canvas  case,  and  on 
a  sudden  impulse  which  she  could  not  explain  to  her- 
self, she  turned  away  her  face  and  ran  into  the  house. 
Thorpe,  vaguely  hurt,  a  little  resentful,  as  the  genu- 
inely misunderstood  are  apt  to  be,  hesitated  a  moment, 
then  trudged  down  the  street.  Helen  too  paused  at 
the  door,  choking  back  her  grief. 

"  Harry!  Harry! "  she  cried  wildly;  btrt  it  was  too 
late. 

Both  felt  themselves  to  be  in  the  right.  Each  real- 
ized this  fact  in  the  other.  Each  recognized  the  im- 
possibility of  imposing  his  own  point  of  tiew  over  the 
other's. 


THE 

BLAZED 
TRAIL 

r 

Part  II 
The  Landlooker 


Chapter  XVI 


/N  every  direction  the  woods.  Not  an  opening  of 
any  kind  offered  the  mind  a  breathing  place  under 
the  free  sky.  Sometimes  the  pine  groves,  —  vast, 
solemn,  grand,  with  the  patrician  aloofness  of  the  truly 
great;  sometimes  the  hardwood,  —  bright,  mysterious, 
full   of   life;    sometimes   the   swamps,  —  dark,    dank, 
speaking  with  the  voices  of  the  shyer  creatures ;  some- 
times   the   spruce   and   balsam    thickets,  —  aromatic, 
enticing.    But  never  the  clear,  open  sky. 

And  always  the  woods  creatures,  in  startling  abun- 
dance and  tameness.  The  solitary  man  with  the  pack- 
straps  across  his  forehead  and  shoulders  had  never 
seen  so  many  of  them.  They  withdrew  silently  before 
him  as  he  advanced.  They  accompanied  him  on 
either  side,  watching  him  with  intelligent,  bright  eyes. 
They  followed  him  stealthily  for  a  little  distance,  as 
though  escorting  him  out  of  their  own  particular  ter- 
ritory. Dozens  of  times  a  day  the  traveller  glimpsed 
the  flaunting  white  flags  of  deer.  Often  the  creatures 
would  take  but  a  few  hasty  jumps,  and  then  would 
wheel,  the  beautiful  embodiments  of  the  picture  deer, 
to  snort  and  paw  the  leaves.  Hundreds  of  birds,  of 
which  he  did  not  know  the  name,  stooped  to  his  in- 
spection, whirred  away  at  his  approach,  or  went  about 
tneir  business  with  hardy  indifference  under  his  very 
eyes.  Blase  porcupines  trundled  superbly  from  his 
path.  Once  a  mother-partridge  simulated  a  broken 
wing,  fluttering  painfully.  Early  one  morning  the 
traveller  ran  plump  on  a  fat  lolling  bear,  taking  his 
ease  from  the  new  sun,  and  his  meal  from  a  panic- 
in 


*14  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

rtricken  army  of  ants.  As  beseemed  two  innocent 
wayfarers  they  honored  each  other  with  a  salute  of 
surprise,  and  went  their  way.  And  all  about  and 
through,  weaving,  watching,  moving  like  spirits,  were 
the  forest  multitudes  which  the  young  man  never  saw, 
but  which  he  divined,  and  of  whose  movements  he 
sometimes  caught  for  a  single  instant  the  faintest  pat- 
ter or  rustle.  It  constituted  the  mystery  of  the  forest, 
that  great  fascinating,  lovable  mystery  which,  once  it 
steals  into  the  heart  of  a  man,  has  always  a  hearing 
and  a  longing  when  it  makes  its  voice  heard. 

The  young  man's  equipment  was  simple  in  the  ex- 
treme. Attached  to  a  heavy  leather  belt  of  cartridges 
hung  a  two-pound  ax  and  a  sheath  knife.  In  his 
pocket  reposed  a  compass,  an  air-tight  tin  of  matches, 
and  a  map  drawn  on  oiled  paper  of  a  district  divided 
into  sections.  Some  few  of  the  sections  were  colored, 
which  indicated  that  they  belonged  to  private  parties. 
All  the  rest  was  State  or  Government  land.  He  car- 
ried in  his  hand  a  repeating  rifle.  The  pack,  if  opened, 
would  have  been  found  to  contain  a  woolen  and  a  rub- 
ber blanket,  fishing  tackle,  twenty  pounds  or  so  of 
flour,  a  package  of  tea,  sugar,  a  slab  of  bacon  carefully 
wrapped  in  oiled  cloth,  salt,  a  suit  of  underwear,  and 
several  extra  pairs  of  thick  stockings.  To  the  out- 
side of  the  pack  had  been  strapped  a  frying  pan,  a  tin 
pail,  and  a  cup. 

For  more  than  a  week  Thorpe  had  journeyed 
through  the  forest  without  meeting  a  human  being, 
or  seeing  any  indications  of  man,  excepting  always 
the  old  blaze  of  the  government  survey.  Many  years 
before,  officials  had  run  careless  lines  through  the 
country  along  the  section-boundaries.  At  this  time 
the  blazes  were  so  weather-beaten  that  Thorpe  often 
found  difficulty  in  deciphering  the  indications  marked 
on  them.  These  latter  stated  always  the  section,  the 
township,  and  the  range  east  or  west  by  number.  All 


THfc  BLAZED  TRAIL  115 

ihorpe  had  to  do  was  to  find  the  same  figures  on  his 
map.  He  knew  just  where  he  was.  By  means  of  his 
compass  he  could  lay  his  course  to  any  point  that 
suited  his  convenience. 

The  map  he  had  procured  at  the  United  States  Land 
Office  in  Detroit.  He  had  set  out  with  the  scanty 
equipment  just  described  for  the  purpose  of  "  looking  " 
a  suitable  bunch  of  pine  in  the  northern  peninsula, 
which,  at  that  time,  was  practically  untouched.  Ac- 
cess to  its  interior  could  be  obtained  only  on  foot  or 
by  river.  The  South  Shore  Railroad  was  already  en- 
gaged in  pushing  a  way  through  the  virgin  forest,  but 
it  had  as  yet  penetrated  only  as  far  as  Seney;  and  after 
all,  had  been  projected  more  with  the  idea  of  estab- 
lishing a  direct  route  to  Duluth  and  the  copper  dis- 
tricts than  to  aid  the  lumber  industry.  Marquette, 
Menominee,  and  a  few  smaller  places  along  the  coast 
were  lumbering  near  at  home;  but  they  shipped  en- 
tirely by  water.  Although  the  rest  of  the  peninsula 
also  was  finely  wooded,  a  general  impression  obtained 
among  the  craft  that  it  would  prove  too  inaccessible 
for  successful  operation. 

Furthermore,  at  that  period,  a  great  deal  of  talk 
was  believed  as  to  the  inexhaustibility  of  Michigan 
pine.  Men  in  a  position  to  know  what  they  were 
talking  about  stated  dogmatically  that  the  forests  of 
the  southern  peninsula  would  be  adequate  for  a  great 
many  years  to  come.  Furthermore,  the  magnificent 
timber  of  the  Saginaw,  Muskegon,  and  Grand  River 
valleys  in  the  southern  peninsula  occupied  entire 
attention.  No  one  cared  to  bother  about  property 
at  so  great  a  distance  from  home.  As  a  consequence, 
few  as  yet  knew  even  the  extent  of  the  resources  so 
far  north. 

Thorpe,  however,  with  the  far-sightedness  of  the 
born  pioneer,  had  perceived  that  the  exploitation  of 
the  upper  country  was  an  affair  of  a  few  years  only. 


It6  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  forests  of  southern  Michigan  were  vast,  but  not 
limitless;  and  they  had  all  passed  into  private  owner- 
ship. The  north,  on  the  other  hand,  would  not  prove 
as  inaccessible  as  it  now  seemed,  for  the  carrying  trade 
would  some  day  realize  that  the  entire  waterway  of 
the  Great  Lakes  offered  an  unrivalled  outlet.  With 
that  elementary  discovery  would  begin  a  rush  to  th» 
new  country.  Tiring  of  a  profitless  employment  fur- 
ther south  he  resolved  to  anticipate  it,  and  by  acquir- 
ing his  holdings  before  general  attention  should  be 
turned  that  way,  to  obtain  of  the  best. 

He  was  without  money,  and  practically  without 
friends;  while  Government  and  State  lands  cost  re- 
spectively two  dollars  and  a  half  and  a  dollar  and  a 
quarter  an  acre,  cash  down.  But  he  relied  on  the 
good  sense  of  capitalists  to  perceive,  from  the  statis- 
tics which  his  explorations  would  furnish,  the  wonder- 
ful advantage  of  logging  a  new  country  with  the  chain 
of  Great  Lakes  as  shipping  outlet  at  its  very  door.  In 
return  for  his  information,  he  would  expect  a  half  in- 
terest in  the  enterprise.  This  is  the  usual  method  of 
procedure  adopted  by  landlookers  everywhere. 

We  have  said  that  the  country  was  quite  new  to 
logging,  but  the  statement  is  not  strictly  accurate, 
Thorpe  was  by  no  means  the  first  to  see  the  money 
in  northern  pine.  Outside  the  big  mill  districts  al- 
ready named,  cuttings  of  considerable  size  were  al- 
ready under  way,  the  logs  from  which  were  usually 
sold  to  the  mills  of  Marquette  or  Menominee.  Here 
and  there  along  the  best  streams,  men  had  already 
begun  operations. 

But  they  worked  on  a  small  scale  and  with  an  eye 
to  the  immediate  present  only;  bending  their  efforts 
to  as  large  a  cut  as  possible  each  season  rather  than 
to  the  acquisition  of  holdings  for  future  operations. 
This  they  accomplished  naively  by  purchasing  one 
forty  and  cutting  a  dozen.  Thorpe's  map  showed 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  117 

often  near  the  forks  of  an  important  stream  a  section 
whose  coloring  indicated  private  possession.  Legally 
the  owners  had  the  right  only  to  the  pine  included  iff 
the  marked  sections;  but  if  anyone  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  visit  the  district,  he  would  have  found  oper- 
ations going  on  for  miles  up  and  down  stream.  The 
colored  squares  would  prove  to  be  nothing  but  so 
many  excuses  for  being  on  the  ground.  The  bulk 
of  the  pine  of  any  season's  cut  he  would  discover 
had  been  stolen  from  unbought  State  or  Government 
land. 

This  in  the  old  days  was  a  common  enough  trick. 
One  man,  at  present  a  wealthy  and  respected  citizen, 
cut  for  six  years,  and  owned  just  one  forty-acres  I 
Another  logged  nearly  fifty  million  feet  from  an 
eighty !  In  the  State  to-day  live  prominent  business 
men,  looked  upon  as  models  in  every  way,  good  fel- 
lows, good  citizens,  with  sons  and  daughters  proud 
of  their  social  position,  who,  nevertheless,  made  the 
bulk  of  their  fortunes  by  stealing  Government  pine. 

"  What  you  want  to-day,  old  man  ? "  inquired  a 
wholesale  lumber  dealer  of  an  individual  whose  name 
now  stands  for  domestic  and  civic  virtue. 

"  I'll  have  five  or  six  million  saw  logs  to  sell  you 
in  the  spring,  and  I  want  to  know  what  you'll  give 
for  them." 

"  Go  on ! "  expostulated  the  dealer  with  a  laugh» 
"  ain't  you  got  that  forty  all  cut  yet?  " 

"  She  holds  out  pretty  well,"  replied  the  other  with 
a  grin. 

An  official,  called  the  Inspector,  is  supposed  to  re- 
port such  stealings,  after  which  another  official  is  to 
prosecute.  Aside  from  the  fact  that  the  danger  of 
discovery  is  practically  zero  in  so  wild  and  distant  a 
country,  it  is  fairly  well  established  that  the  old-time 
logger  found  these  two  individuals  susceptible  to  flv» 
gentle  art  oi  "  sugaring."  The  officials,  as  wen  as  C3? 


ii8  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

lumberman,  became  rich.  If  worst  came  to  worst, 
and  investigation  seemed  imminent,  the  operator 
could  still  purchase  the  land  at  legal  rates,  and  so 
escape  trouble.  But  the  intention  to  appropriate  was 
there,  and,  to  confess  the  truth,  the  whitewashing  by 
purchase  needed  but  rarely  to  be  employed.  I  have 
time  and  again  heard  landlookers  assert  that  the  old 
Land  Offices  were  rarely  "  on  the  square,"  but  as  to 
that  I  cannot,  of  course,  venture  an  opinion. 

Thorpe  was  perfectly  conversant  with  this  state  of 
affairs.  He  knew,  also,  that  in  all  probability  many 
of  the  colored  districts  on  his  map  represented  firms 
engaged  in  steals  of  greater  or  less  magnitude.  He 
was  further  aware  that  most  of  the  concerns  stole  the 
timber  because  it  was  cheaper  to  steal  than  to  buy; 
but  that  they  would  buy  readily  enough  if  forced  to 
do  so  in  order  to  prevent  its  acquisition  by  another. 
This  other  might  be  himself.  In  his  exploration, 
therefore,  he  decided  to  employ  the  utmost  circum- 
spection. As  much  as  possible  he  purposed  to  avoid 
other  men ;  but  if  meetings  became  inevitable,  he  hoped 
to  mask  his  real  intentions.  He  would  pose  as  a 
hunter  and  fisherman. 

During  the  course  of  his  week  in  the  woods,  he 
discovered  that  he  would  be  forced  eventually  to  resort 
to  this  expedient.  He  encountered  quantities  of  fine 
timber  in  the  country  through  which  he  travelled,  and 
some  day  it  would  be  logged,  but  at  present  the  diffi- 
culties were  too  great.  The  streams  were  shallow, 
or  they  did  not  empty  into  a  good  shipping  port.  In- 
vestors would  naturally  look  first  for  holdings  along 
the  more  practicable  routes. 

A  cursory  glance  sufficed  to  show  that  on  such 
waters  the  little  red  squares  had  already  blocked  a 
foothold  for  other  owners.  Thorpe  surmised  that  he 
would  undoubtedly  discover  fine  unbought  timber 
along  their  banks,  but  that  the  men  already  engaged 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  119 

in  stealing  it  would  hardly  be  likely  to  allow  him 
peaceful  acquisition. 

For  a  week,  then,  he  journeyed  through  magnificent 
timber  without  finding  what  he  sought,  working  al- 
ways more  and  more  to  the  north,  until  finally  he  stood 
on  the  shores  of  Superior.  Up  to  now  the  streams 
had  not  suited  him.  He  resolved  to  follow  the  shore 
west  to  the  mouth  of  a  fairly  large  river  called  the 
Ossawinamakee.*  It  showed,  in  common  with  most 
streams  of  its  size,  land  already  taken,  but  Thorpe 
hoped  to  find  good  timber  nearer  the  mouth.  After 
several  days'  hard  walking  with  this  object  in  view, 
he  found  himself  directly  north  of  a  bend  in  the  river; 
so,  without  troubling  to  hunt  for  its  outlet  into  Su- 
perior, he  turned  through  the  woods  due  south,  with 
the  intention  of  striking  in  on  the  stream.  This  he 
succeeded  in  accomplishing  some  twenty  miles  inland, 
where  also  he  discovered  a  well-defined  and  recently 
used  trail  leading  up  the  river.  Thorpe  camped 
one  night  at  the  bend,  and  then  set  out  to  follow  the 
trail. 

It  led  him  for  upwards  of  ten  miles  nearly  due  south, 
sometimes  approaching,  sometimes  leaving  the  river, 
but  keeping  always  in  its  direction.  The  country  in 
general  was  rolling.  Low  parallel  ridges  of  gentle 
declivity  glided  constantly  across  his  way,  their  val- 
leys sloping  to  the  river.  Thorpe  had  never  seen  a 
grander  forest  of  pine  than  that  which  clothed  them. 

For  almost  three  miles,  after  the  young  man  had 
passed  through  a  preliminary  jungle  of  birch,  cedar, 
spruce,  and  hemlock,  it  ran  without  a  break,  clear, 
clean,  of  cloud-sweeping  altitude,  without  underbrush. 
Most  of  it  was  good  bull-sap,  which  is  known  by  the 
fineness  of  the  bark,  though  often  in  the  hollows  it 
shaded  gradually  into  the  rough-skinned  cork  pine. 
In  those  days  few  people  paid  any  attention  to  the 

*  Accent  the  last  syllable. 


120  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Norway,  and  hemlock  was  not  even  thought  of.  With 
every  foot  of  the  way  Thorpe  became  more  and  more 
impressed. 

At  first  the  grandeur,  the  remoteness,  the  solemnity 
of  the  virgin  forest  fell  on  his  spirit  with  a  kind  of  awe. 
The  tall,  straight  trunks  lifted  directly  upwards  to  the 
vaulted  screen  through  which  the  sky  seemed  as  re- 
mote as  the  ceiling  of  a  Roman  church.  Ravens 
wheeled  and  croaked  in  the  blue,  but  infinitely  far 
away.  Some  lesser  noises  wove  into  the  stillness 
without  breaking  the  web  of  its  splendor,  for  the  pine 
silence  laid  soft,  hushing  fingers  on  the  lips  of  those 
who  might  waken  the  sleeping  sunlight. 

Then  the  spirit  of  the  pioneer  stirred  within  his  soul. 
The  wilderness  sent  forth  its  old-time  challenge  to  the 
hardy.  In  him  awoke  that  instinct  which,  without 
itself  perceiving  the  end  on  which  it  is  bent,  clears  the 
way  for  the  civilization  that  has  been  ripening  in  old- 
world  hot-houses  during  a  thousand  years.  Men 
must  eat;  and  so  the  soil  must  be  made  productive. 
We  regret,  each  after  his  manner,  the  passing  of  the 
Indian,  the  buffalo,  the  great  pine  forests,  for  they 
are  of  the  picturesque;  but  we  live  gladly  on  the 
product  of  the  farms  that  have  taken  their  places. 
Southern  Michigan  was  once  a  pine  forest:  now  the 
twisted  stump-fences  about  the  most  fertile  farms  of 
the  north  alone  break  the  expanse  of  prairie  and  of 
trim  "  wood-lots." 

Thorpe  knew  little  of  this,  and  cared  less.  These 
feathered  trees,  standing  close-ranked  and  yet  each 
isolate  in  the  dignity  and  gravity  of  a  sphinx  of  stone, 
set  to  dancing  his  blood  of  the  frontiersman.  He 
spread  out  his  map  to  make  sure  that  so  valuable  a 
clump  of  timber  remained  still  unclaimed.  A  few 
sections  lying  near  the  headwaters  were  all  he  found 
marked  as  sold.  He  resumed  his  tramp  light-heart- 
edly. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  121 

At  the  ten-mile  point  he  came  upon  a  dam.  It  was 
a  crude  dam,  —  built  of  logs,  —  whose  face  consisted 
of  strong  buttresses  slanted  up-stream,  and  whose 
sheer  was  made  of  unbarked  timbers  laid  smoothly 
side  by  side  at  the  required  angle.  At  present  its  gate 
was  open.  Thorpe  could  see  that  it  was  an  unusually 
large  gate,  with  a  powerful  apparatus  for  the  raising 
and  the  lowering  of  it. 

The  purpose  of  the  dam  in  this  new  country  did  not 
puzzle  him  in  the  least,  but  its  presence  bewildered 
him.  Such  constructions  are  often  thrown  across 
logging  streams  at  proper  intervals  in  order  that  the 
operator  may  be  independent  of  the  spring  freshets. 
When  he  wishes  to  "  drive  "  his  logs  to  the  mouth  of 
the  stream,  he  first  accumulates  a  head  of  water  be- 
hind his  dams,  and  then,  by  lifting  the  gates,  creates 
an  artificial  freshet  sufficient  to  float  his  timber  to  the 
pool  formed  by  the  next  dam  below.  The  device  is 
common  enough;  but  it  is  expensive.  People  do  not 
build  dams  except  in  the  certainty  of  some  years  of 
logging,  and  quite  extensive  logging  at  that.  If  the 
stream  happens  to  be  navigable,  the  promoter  must 
first  get  an  Improvement  Charter  from  a  board  of 
control  appointed  by  the  State.  So  Thorpe  knew  that 
he  had  to  deal,  not  with  a  hand-to-mouth-timber-thief, 
but  with  a  great  company  preparing  to  log  the  country 
on  a  big  scale. 

He  continued  his  journey.  At  noon  he  came  to 
another  and  similar  structure.  The  pine  forest  had 
yielded  to  knolls  of  hardwood  separated  by  swamp- 
holes  of  blackthorn.  Here  he  left  his  pack  and  pushed 
ahead  in  light  marching  order.  About  eight  miles 
above  the  first  dam,  and  eighteen  from  the  bend  of 
the  river,  he  ran  into  a  "  slashing  "  of  the  year  before. 
The  decapitated  stumps  were  already  beginning  to 
turn  brown  with  weather,  the  tangle  of  tops  and  limbs 
was  partially  concealed  by  poplar  growths  and  wild 


122  THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

raspberry  vines.  Parenthetically,  it  may  be  remarked 
that  the  promptitude  with  which  these  growths  suc- 
ceed the  cutting  of  the  pine  is  an  inexplicable  marvel. 
Gear  forty  acres  at  random  in  the  very  center  of  a 
pine  forest,  without  a  tract  of  poplar  within  an  hun- 
dred miles;  the  next  season  will  bring  up  the  fresh 
shoots.  Some  claim  that  blue  jays  bring  the  seeds  in 
their  crops.  Others  incline  to  the  theory  that  the 
creative  elements  lie  dormant  in  the  soil,  needing  only 
the  sun  to  start  them  to  life.  Final  speculation  is 
impossible,  but  the  fact  stands. 

To  Thorpe  this  particular  clearing  became  at  once 
of  the  greatest  interest.  He  scrambled  over  and 
through  the  ugly  debris  which  for  a  year  or  two  after 
logging  operations  cumbers  the  ground.  By  a  rather 
prolonged  search  he  found  what  he  sought,  —  the/ 
"  section  corners  "  of  the  tract,  on  which  the  govern- 
ment surveyor  had  long  ago  marked  the  "  descrip- 
tions." A  glance  at  the  map  confirmed  his  suspicions. 
The  slashing  lay  some  two  miles  north  of  the  sections 
designated  as  belonging  to  private  parties.  It  was 
Government  land. 

Thorpe  sat  down,  lit  a  pipe,  and  did  a  little  thinking. 

As  an  axiom  it  may  be  premised  that  the  shorter 
the  distance  logs  have  to  be  transported,  the  less  it 
costs  to  get  them  in.  Now  Thorpe  had  that  very 
morning  passed  through  beautiful  timber  lying  much 
nearer  the  mouth  of  the  river  than  either  this,  or  the 
sections  further  south.  Why  had  these  men  delib- 
^erately  ascended  the  stream?  Why  had  they  stolen 
timber  eighteen  miles  from  the  bend,  when  they  could 
'equally  well  have  stolen  just  as  good  fourteen  miles 
nearer  the  terminus  of  their  drive? 

Thorpe  ruminated  for  some  time  without  hitting 
upon  a  solution.  Then  suddenly  he  remembered  the 
two  dams,  and  his  idea  that  the  men  in  charge  of  the 
river  must  be  wealthy  and  must  intend  operating  on 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  123 

a  large  scale.  He  thought  he  glimpsed  it.  After  an- 
other pipe,  he  felt  sure. 

The  Unknowns  were  indeed  going  in  on  a  large 
scale.  They  intended  eventually  to  log  the  whole  of 
the  Ossawinamakee  basin.  For  this  reason  they  had 
made  their  first  purchase,  planted  their  first  foot-hold, 
near  the  headwaters.  Furthermore,  located  as  they 
were  far  from  a  present  or  an  immediately  future  civ- 
ilization, they  had  felt  safe  in  leaving  for  the  moment 
their  holdings  represented  by  the  three  sections  al- 
ready described.  Some  day  they  would  buy  all  the 
standing  Government  pine  in  the  basin ;  but  in  the 
meantime  they  would  steal  all  they  could  at  a  sufficient 
distance  from  the  lake  to  minimize  the  danger  of  dis« 
covery.  They  had  not  dared  to  appropriate  the  three- 
mile  tract  Thorpe  had  passed  through,  because  in  that 
locality  the  theft  would  probably  be  remarked,  so  they 
intended  eventually  to  buy  it.  Until  that  should  be- 
come necessary,  however,  every  stick  cut  meant  so 
much  less  to  purchase. 

"  They're  going  to  cut,  and  keep  on  cutting,  work- 
ing down  river  as  fast  as  they  can,"  argued  Thorpe. 
"  If  anything  happens  so  they  have  to,  they'll  buy  in 
the  pine  that  is  left;  but  if  things  go  well  with  them, 
they'll  take  what  they  can  for  nothing.  They're  get- 
ting this  stuff  out  up-river  first,  because  they  can  steal 
safer  while  the  country  is  still  unsettled;  and  even 
when  it  does  fill  up,  there  will  not  be  much  likelihood 
of  an  investigation  so  far  in-country,  —  at  least  until 
after  they  have  folded  their  tents." 

It  seems  to  us  who  are  accustomed  to  the  accurate 
policing  of  our  twentieth  century,  almost  incredible 
that  such  wholesale  robberies  should  have  gone  on 
with  so  little  danger  of  detection.  Certainly  detection 
was  a  matter  of  sufficient  simplicity.  Someone  hap- 
pens along,  like  Thorpe,  carrying  a  Government  map 
in  his  pocket.  He  runs  across  a  parcel  of  unclaimed 


124  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

land  already  cut  over.  It  would  seem  easy  to  lodge 
a  complaint,  institute  a  prosecution  against  the  men 
known  to  have  put  in  the  timber.  But  it  is  almost 
never  done. 

Thorpe  knew  that  men  occupied  in  so  precarious  a 
business  would  be  keenly  on  the  watch.  At  the  first 
hint  of  rivalry,  they  would  buy  in  the  timber  they  had 
selected.  But  the  situation  had  set  his  fighting  blood 
to  racing.  The  very  fact  that  these  men  were  thieves 
on  so  big  a  scale  made  him  the  more  obstinately  de- 
termined to  thwart  them.  They  undoubtedly  wanted 
the  tract  down  river.  Well,  so  did  he! 

He  purposed  to  look  it  over  carefully,  to  ascertain 
its  exact  boundaries  and  what  sections  it  would  be 
necessary  to  buy  in  order  to  include  it,  and  perhaps 
even  to  estimate  it  in  a  rough  way.  In  the  accom- 
plishment of  this  he  would  have  to  spend  the  summer, 
and  perhaps  part  of  the  fall,  in  that  district.  He  could 
hardly  expect  to  escape  notice.  By  the  indications 
on  the  river,  he  judged  that  a  crew  of  men  had  shortly 
before  taken  out  a  drive  of  logs.  After  the  timber 
had  been  rafted  and  towed  to  Marquette,  they  would 
feturn.  He  might  be  able  to  hide  in  the  forest,  but 
sooner  or  later,  he  was  sure,  one  of  the  company's 
landlookers  or  hunters  would  stumble  on  his  camp. 
Then  his  very  concealment  would  tell  them  what  he 
was  after.  The  risk  was  too  great.  For  above  all 
things  Thorpe  needed  time.  He  had,  as  has  been  said, 
to  ascertain  what  he  could  offer.  Then  he  had  to 
offer  it.  He  would  be  forced  to  interest  capital,  and 
that  is  a  matter  of  persuasion  and  leisure. 

Finally  his  shrewd,  intuitive  good-sense  flashed  the 
solution  on  him.  He  returned  rapidly  to  his  pack, 
assumed  the  straps,  and  arrived  at  the  first  dam  about 
dark  of  the  long  summer  day. 

There  he  looked  carefully  about  him.  Some  fifty 
feet  from  the  water's  edge  a  birch  knoll  supported, 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  125 

besides  the  birches,  a  single  big  hemlock.  With  his 
belt  ax,  Thorpe  cleared  away  the  little  white  trees. 
He  stuck  the  sharpened  end  of  one  of  them  in  the  bark 
of  the  shaggy  hemlock,  fastened  the  other  end  in  a 
crotch  eight  or  ten  feet  distant,  slanted  the  rest  of  the 
saplings  along  one  side  of  this  ridge  pole,  and  turned 
in,  after  a  hasty  supper,  leaving  the  completion  of  his 
permanent  camp  to  the  morrow. 


Chapter  XVII 


/N  the  morning  he  thatched  smooth  the  roof  of 
the  shelter,  using  for  the  purpose  the  thick 
branches  of  hemlocks;  placed  two  green  spruce 
logs  side  by  side  as  cooking  range;  slung  his  pot  on 
a  rod  across  two  forked  sticks;  cut  and  split  a  quan- 
tity of  wood;  spread  his  blankets;  and  called  himself 
established.  His  beard  was  already  well  grown,  and 
his  clothes  had  become  worn  by  the  brush  and  faded 
by  the  sun  and  rain.  In  the  course  of  the  morning 
he  lay  in  wait  very  patiently  near  a  spot  overflowed 
by  the  river,  where,  the  day  before,  he  had  noticed 
lily-pads  growing.  After  a  time  a  doe  and  a  spotted 
fawn  came  and  stood  ankle-deep  in  the  water,  and  ate 
of  the  lily-pads.  Thorpe  lurked  motionless  behind  his 
screen  of  leaves;  and  as  he  had  taken  the  precaution 
so  to  station  himself  that  his  hiding-place  lay  down- 
wind, the  beautiful  animals  were  unaware  of  his  pres- 
ence. 

By  and  by  a  prong-buck  joined  them.  He  was  a 
two-year-old,  young,  tender,  with  the  velvet  just  off 
his  antlers.  Thorpe  aimed  at  his  shoulder,  six  inches 
above  the  belly-line,  and  pressed  the  trigger.  As 
though  by  enchantment  the  three  woods  creatures  dis- 
appeared. But  the  hunter  had  noticed  that,  whereas 
the  doe  and  fawn  flourished  bravely  the  broad  white 
flags  of  their  tails,  the  buck  had  seemed  but  a  streak 
of  brown.  By  this  he  knew  he  had  hit. 

Sure  enough,  after  two  hundred  yards  of  following 
the  prints  of  sharp  hoofs  and  occasional  gobbets  of 
blood  on  the  leaves,  he  came  upon  his  prey  dead.  It 

126 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  127 

became  necessary  to  transport  the  animal  to  camp. 
Thorpe  stuck  his  hunting-  knife  deep  into  the  front  of 
the  deer's  chest,  where  the  neck  joins,  which  allowed 
most  of  the  blood  to  drain  away.  Then  he  fastened 
wild  grape  vines  about  the  antlers,  and,  with  a  little 
exertion  drew  the  body  after  him  as  though  it  had 
been  a  toboggan. 

It  slid  more  easily  than  one  would  imagine,  along 
the  grain ;  but  not  as  easily  as  by  some  other  methods 
with  which  Thorpe  was  unfamiliar. 

At  camp  he  skinned  the  deer,  cut  most  of  the  meat 
into  thin  strips  which  he  salted  and  placed  in  the  sun 
to  dry,  and  hung  the  remainder  in  a  cool  arbor  of 
boughs.  The  hide  he  suspended  over  a  pole. 

All  these  things  he  did  hastily,  as  though  he  might 
be  in  a  hurry ;  as  indeed  he  was. 

At  noon  he  cooked  himself  a  venison  steak  and 
some  tea.  Then  with  his  hatchet  he  cut  several  small 
pine  poles,  which  he  fashioned  roughly  in  a  number 
of  shapes  and  put  aside  for  the  future.  The  brains  of 
the  deer,  saved  for  the  purpose,  he  boiled  with  water 
in  his  tin  pail,  wishing  it  were  larger.  With  the  liquor 
thus  obtained  he  intended  later  to  remove  the  hair  and 
grain  from  the  deer  hide.  Toward  evening  he  caught 
a  dozen  trout  in  the  pool  below  the  dam.  These  he 
ate  for  supper. 

Next  day  he  spread  the  buck's  hide  out  on  the 
ground  and  drenched  it  liberally  with  the  product  of 
deer-brains.  Later  the  hide  was  soaked  in  the  river, 
after  which,  by  means  of  a  rough  two-handled  spatula, 
Thorpe  was  enabled  after  much  labor  to  scrape  away 
entirely  the  hair  and  grain.  He  cut  from  the  edge  of 
the  hide  a  number  of  long  strips  of  raw-hide,  but 
anointed  the  body  of  the  skin  liberally  with  the  brain 
liquor. 

"  Glad  I  don't  have  to  do  that  every  day! "  he  com- 
mented, wiping  his  brow  with  &e  back  of  his  wrist. 


128  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

As  t  e  skin  dried  he  worked  and  kneaded  it  to  soft- 
ness. The  result  was  a  fair  quality  of  white  buckskin, 
the  first  Thorpe  had  ever  made.  If  wetted,  it  would 
harden  dry  and  stiff.  Thorough  smoking  in  the  fumes 
of  punk  maple  would  obviate  this,  but  that  detail 
Thorpe  left  until  later. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  all  necessary,"  he  said 
to  himself  doubtfully,  "  but  if  you're  going  to  assume 
a  disguise,  let  it  be  a  good  one." 

In  the  meantime,  he  had  bound  together  with  his 
rawhide  thongs  several  of  the  oddly  shaped  pine  tim- 
bers to  form  a  species  of  dead-fall  trap.  It  was  slow 
work,  for  Thorpe's  knowledge  of  such  things  was  the- 
oretical. He  had  learned  his  theory  well,  however, 
and  in  the  end  arrived. 

All  this  time  he  had  made  no  effort  to  look  over 
the  pine,  nor  did  he  intend  to  begin  until  he  could 
be  sure  of  doing  so  in  safety.  His  object  now  was 
to  give  his  knoll  the  appearances  of  a  trapper's 
camp. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  week  he  received  his  first 
visit.  Evening  was  drawing  on,  and  Thorpe  was  bus- 
fly  engaged  in  cooking  a  panful  of  trout,  resting  the 
frying  pan  across  the  two  green  spruce  logs  between 
which  glowed  the  coals.  Suddenly  he  became  aware 
of  a  presence  at  his  side.  How  it  had  reached  the 
spot  he  could  not  imagine,  for  he  had  heard  no  ap- 
proach. He  looked  up  quickly. 

"  How  do,"  greeted  the  newcomer  gravely. 

The  man  was  an  Indian,  silent,  solemn,  with  the 
straight,  unwinking  gaze  of  his  race. 

"  How  do,"  replied  Thorpe. 

The  Indian  without  further  ceremony  threw  his  pack 
to  the  ground,  and,  squatting  on  his  heels,  watched 
the  white  man's  preparations.  When  the  meal  was 
cooked,  he  coolly  produced  a  knife,  selected  a  clean 
bit  of  hemlock  bark,  and  helped  himself.  Then  he  lit 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  129 

a  pipe,  and  gazed  keenly  about  him.  The  buckskin 
interested  him. 

"  No  good,"  said  he,  feeling  of  its  texture. 

Thorpe  laughed.     "  Not  very,"  he  confessed. 

"  Good,"  continued  the  Indian,  touching  lightly  his 
own  moccasins. 

"  What  you  do  ?  "  he  inquired  after  a  long  silence, 
punctuated  by  the  puffs  of  tobacco. 

"  Hunt ;  trap ;  fish,"  replied  Thorpe  with  equal  sen- 
tentiousness. 

"  Good,"  concluded  the  Indian,  after  a  ruminative 
pause. 

That  night  he  slept  on  the  ground.  Next  day  he 
made  a  better  shelter  than  Thorpe's  in  less  than  half 
the  time;  and  was  off  hunting  before  the  sun  was  an 
hour  high.  He  was  armed  with  an  old-fashioned 
smooth-bore  muzzle-loader;  and  Thorpe  was  aston- 
ished, after  he  had  become  better  acquainted  with  his 
new  companion's  methods,  to  find  that  he  hunted  deer 
with  fine  bird  shot.  The  Indian  never  expected  to 
kill  or  even  mortally  wound  his  game;  but  he  would 
follow  for  miles  the  blood  drops  caused  by  his  little 
wounds,  until  the  animals  in  sheer  exhaustion  allowed 
him  to  approach  close  enough  for  a  dispatching  blow. 
At  two  o'clock  he  returned  with  a  small  buck,  tied 
scientifically  together  for  toting,  with  the  waste  parts 
cut  away,  but  every  ounce  of  utility  retained. 

"I  show,"  said  the  Indian:  —  and  he  did.  Thorpe 
learned  the  Indian  tan;  of  what  use  are  the  hollow 
shank  bones ;  how  the  spinal  cord  is  the  toughest,  soft- 
est, and  most  pliable  sewing-thread  known. 

The  Indian  appeared  to  intend  making  the  birch- 
knoll  his  permanent  headquarters.  Thorpe  was  at 
first  a  little  suspicious  of  his  new  companion,  but  the 
man  appeared  scrupulously  honest,  was  never  in- 
trusive, and  even  seemed  genuinely  desirous  of  teach- 
ing the  white  little  tricks  of  the  woods  brought  to  their 


130  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Cerfection  by  the  Indian  alone.  He  ended  by  liking 
im.  The  two  rarely  spoke.  They  merely  sat  near 
each  other,  and  smoked.  One  evening  the  Indian 
suddenly  remarked: 

"  You  look  'urn  tree." 

"  What's  that?  "  cried  Thorpe,  startled. 

"  You  no  hunter,  no  trapper.  You  look  'um  tree, 
for  make  'um  lumber." 

The  white  had  not  begun  as  yet  his  explorations. 
He  did  not  dare  until  the  return  of  the  logging  crew 
or  the  passing  of  someone  in  authority  at  the  up-river 
camp,  for  he  wished  first  to  establish  in  their  mind* 
the  innocence  of  his  intentions. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that,  Charley?  "  he  asked, 

"  You  good  man  in  woods,"  replied  Injin  Charley 
sententiously,  "  I  tell  by  way  you  look  at  him  pine." 

Thorpe  ruminated. 

"  Charley,"  said  he,  "  why  are  you  staying  here  with 
me?" 

"  Big  frien',"  replied  the  Indian  promptly. 

"  Why  are  you  my  friend  ?  What  have  I  ever  done 
for  you?" 

"  You  gottum  chief's  eye,"  replied  his  companion 
with  simplicity. 

Thorpe  looked  at  the  Indian  again.  There  seemed 
to  be  only  one  course. 

"  Yes,  I'm  a  lumberman,"  he  confessed,  "  and  I'm 
looking  for  pine.  But,  Charley,  the  men  up  the  river 
must  not  know  what  I'm  after." 

"  They  gettum  pine,"  interjected  the  Indian  like  a 
dash. 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Thorpe,  surprised  afresh  at  the 
Other's  perspicacity. 

"Good!"  ejaculated  Injin  Charley,  and  fell  silent. 

With  this,  the  longest  conversation  the  two  had  at- 
tempted in  their  peculiar  acquaintance,  Thorpe  was 
forced  to  be  content.  He  was,  however,  ill  at  ease 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  131 

over  the  incident.  It  added  an  element  of  uncertainty 
to  an  already  precarious  position. 

Three  days  later  he  was  intensely  thankful  the  con* 
versation  had  taken  place. 

After  the  noon  meal  he  lay  on  his  blanket  under  the 
hemlock  shelter,  smoking  and  lazily  watching  Injin 
Charley  busy  at  the  side  of  the  trail.  The  Indian  had 
terminated  a  long  two  days'  search  by  toting  from  the 
forest  a  number  of  strips  of  the  outer  bark  of  white 
birch,  in  its  green  state  pliable  as  cotton,  thick  as 
leather,  and  light  as  air.  These  he  had  cut  into  ar- 
bitrary patterns  known  only  to  himself,  and  was  now 
sewing  as  a  long  shapeless  sort  of  bag  or  sac  to  a 
slender  beech-wood  oval.  Later  it  was  to  become  a 
birch-bark  canoe,  and  the  beech-wood  oval  would  be 
the  gunwale. 

So  idly  intent  was  Thorpe  on  this  piece  of  construc- 
tion that  he  did  not  notice  the  approach  of  two  men 
from  the  down-stream  side.  They  were  short,  alert 
men,  plodding  along  with  the  knee-bent  persistency 
of  the  woods-walker,  dressed  in  broad  hats,  flannel 
shirts,  coarse  trousers  tucked  in  high  laced  "  cruis- 
ers " ;  and  carrying  each  a  bulging  meal  sack  looped 
by  a  cord  across  the  shoulders  and  chest.  Both  were 
armed  with  long  slender  sealer's  rules.  The  first  in- 
timation Thorpe  received  of  the  presence  of  these  two 
men  was  the  sound  of  their  voices  addressing  Injin 
Charley. 

"  Hullo  Charley,"  said  one  of  them,  "  what  you 
doing  here?  Ain't  seen  you  since  th'  Sturgeon  dis- 
trict" 

"  Mak'  'urn  canoe,"  replied  Charley  rather  ob- 
viously. 

"  So  I  see.  But  what  you  expect  to  get  in  this  God- 
forsaken country?  " 

"  Beaver,  muskrat,  mink,  otter." 

"Trapping,    eh?"    The    man    gazed    keenly    at 


132  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Thorpe  s  recumbent  figure.  "  Who's  the  other  fel- 
low?" 

Thorpe  held  his  breath;  then  exhaled  it  in  a  long 
sigh  of  relief. 

"  Him  white  man,"  Injin  Charley  was  replying, 
"  him  hunt  too.  He  mak'  'um  buckskin." 

The  landlooker  arose  lazily  and  sauntered  toward 
the  group.  It  was  part  of  his  plan  to  be  well  recog- 
nized so  that  in  the  future  he  might  arouse  no  sus- 
picions. 

"  Howdy,"  he  drawled,  "  got  any  smokin'?  " 

"  How  are  you,"  replied  one  of  the  sealers,  eying 
him  sharply,  and  tendering  his  pouch.  Thorpe  filled 
his  pipe  deliberately,  and  returned  it  with  a  heavy- 
lidded  glance  of  thanks.  To  all  appearances  he  was 
one  of  the  lazy,  shiftless  white  hunters  of  the  back- 
woods. Seized  with  an  inspiration,  he  said,  "  What 
sort  of  chances  is  they  at  your  camp  for  a  little  flour  ? 
Me  and  Charley's  about  out.  I'll  bring  you  meat;  or 
I'll  make  you  boys  moccasins.  I  got  some  good 
buckskin." 

It  was  the  usual  proposition. 

"  Pretty  good,  I  guess.  Come  up  and  see,"  ad- 
vised the  sealer.  "  The  crew's  right  behind  us." 

"  I'll  send  up  Charley,"  drawled  Thorpe,  "  I'm  busy 
now  makin'  traps,"  he  waved  his  pipe,  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  pine  and  rawhide  dead-falls. 

They  chatted  a  few  moments,  practically  and  with 
an  eye  to  the  strict  utility  of  things  about  them,  as 
became  woodsmen.  Then  two  wagons  creaked  lurch- 
ing by,  followed  by  fifteen  or  twenty  men.  The  last 
of  these,  evidently  the  foreman,  was  joined  by  the  two 
sealers. 

"What's  that  outfit?"  he  inquired  with  the  sharp- 
ness of  suspicion. 

"  Old  Injin  Charley  —  you  remember,  the  old  boy 
that  tanned  that  buck  for  you  down  on  Cedar  Creek." 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  133 

**  Yes,  but  the  other  fellow." 

"  Oh,  a  hunter,"  replied  the  sealer  carelessly. 

"  Sure?  " 

The  man  laughed.  "  Couldn't  be  nothin'  else,"  he 
asserted  with  confidence.  "  Regular  old  backwoods 
mossback." 

At  the  same  time  Injin  Charley  was  setting  about 
the  splitting  of  a  cedar  log. 

"  You  see,"  he  remarked,  "  I  big  frien'." 


Chapter  XVIII 


/N  the  days  that  followed,  Thorpe  cruised  about- 
the  great  woods.  It  was  slow  business,  but  fasci- 
nating. He  knew  that  when  he  should  embark 
on  his  attempt  to  enlist  considerable  capital  in  an  "  un- 
sight  unseen  "  investment,  he  would  have  to  be  well 
supplied  with  statistics.  True,  he  was  not  much  of  a 
timber  estimator,  nor  did  he  know  the  methods  usually 
employed,  but  his  experience,  observation,  and  read- 
ing had  developed  a  latent  sixth  sense  by  which  he 
could  appreciate  quality,  difficulties  of  logging,  and 
such  kindred  practical  matters. 

First  of  all  he  walked  over  the  country  at  large,  to 
find  where  the  best  timber  lay.  This  was  a  matter  of 
tramping;  though  often  on  an  elevation  he  succeeded 
in  climbing  a  tall  tree  whence  he  caught  bird's-eye 
views  of  the  country  at  large.  He  always  carried  his 
gun  with  him,  and  was  prepared  at  a  moment's  notice 
to  seem  engaged  in  hunting,  —  either  for  game  or  for 
spots  in  which  later  to  set  his  traps.  The  expedient 
was,  however,  unnecessary. 

Next  he  ascertained  the  geographical  location  of 
the  different  clumps  and  forests,  entering  the  sections, 
the  quarter-sections,  even  the  separate  forties  in  his 
note-book ;  taking  in  only  the  "  descriptions  "  contain- 
ing the  best  pine. 

Finally  he  wrote  accurate  notes  concerning  the 
topography  of  each  and  every  pine  district,  —  the  lay 
of  the  land;  the  hills,  ravines,  swamps,  and  valleys;  the 
distance  from  the  river;  the  character  of  the  soil.  In 
short,  he  accumulated  all  the  information  he  could  by 
which  the  cost  of  logging  might  be  estimated. 

134 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  135 

The  work  went  much  quicker  than  he  had  antici- 
pated, mainly  because  he  could  give  his  entire  atten- 
tion to  it.  Injin  Charley  attended  to  the  commissary, 
with  a  delight  in  the  process  that  removed  it  from  the 
category  of  work.  When  it  rained,  an  infrequent 
occurrence,  the  two  hung  Thorpe's  rubber  blankets 
before  the  opening  of  the  driest  shelter,  and  waited 
philosophically  for  the  weather  to  clear.  Injin 
Charley  had  finished  the  first  canoe,  and  was  now 
leisurely  at  work  on  another.  Thorpe  had  filled  his 
note-book  with  the  class  of  statistics  just  described. 
He  decided  now  to  attempt  an  estimate  of  the  timber. 

For  this  he  had  really  too  little  experience.  He 
knew  it,  but  determined  to  do  his  best.  The  weak 
point  of  his  whole  scheme  lay  in  that  it  was  going  to 
be  impossible  for  him  to  allow  the  prospective  pur- 
chaser a  chance  of  examining  the  pine.  That  difficulty 
Thorpe  hoped  to  overcome  by  inspiring  personal  con- 
fidence in  himself.  If  he  failed  to  do  so,  he  might 
return  with  a  landlooker  whom  the  investor  trusted, 
and  the  two  could  re-enact  the  comedy  of  this  summer. 
Thorpe  hoped,  however,  to  avoid  the  necessity.  It 
would  be  too  dangerous.  He  set  about  a  rough  esti- 
mate of  the  timber. 

Injin  Charley  intended  evidently  to  work  up  a  trade 
in  buckskin  during  the  coming  winter.  Although 
the  skins  were  in  poor  condition  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  he  tanned  three  more,  and  smoked  them.  ID 
the  day-time  he  looked  the  country  over  as  carefully 
as  did  Thorpe.  But  he  ignored  the  pines,  and  paid 
attention  only  to  the  hardwood  and  the  beds  of  little 
creeks.  Injin  Charley  was  in  reality  a  trapper,  and 
he  intended  to  get  many  fine  skins  in  this  promising 
district.  He  worked  on  his  tanning  and  his  canoe- 
making  late  in  the  afternoon. 

One  evening  just  at  sunset  Thorpe  was  helping  the 
Indian  shape  his  craft.  The  loose  sac  of  birch-bark 


136  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

sewed  to  the  long  beech  oval  was  slung  between  two 
tripods.  Injin  Charley  had  fashioned  a  number  of 
thin,  flexible  cedar  strips  of  certain  arbitrary  lengths 
and  widths.  Beginning  with  the  smallest  of  these, 
Thorpe  and  fiis  companion  were  catching  one  end  under 
the  beech  oval,  bending  the  strip  bow-shape  inside  the 
sac,  and  catching  again  the  other  side  of  the  oval. 
Thus  the  spring  of  the  bent  cedar,  pressing  against  the 
inside  of  the  birch-bark  sac,  distended  it  tightly.  The 
cut  of  the  sac  and  the  length  of  the  cedar  strips  gave 
to  the  canoe  its  graceful  shape. 

The  two  men  bent  there  at  their  task,  the  dull  glow 
of  evening  falling  upon  them.  Behind  them  the  knoll 
stood  out  in  picturesque  relief  against  the  darker  pine, 
—  the  little  shelters,  the  fire-places  of  green  spruce, 
the  blankets,  the  guns,  a  deer's  carcass  suspended 
by  the  feet  from  a  cross  pole,  the  drying  buckskin 
on  either  side.  The  river  rushed  by  with  a  never- 
ending  roar  and  turmoil.  Through  its  shouting  one 
perceived,  as  through  a  mist,  the  still  lofty  peace  of 
evening. 

A  young  fellow,  hardly  more  than  a  boy,  exclaimed 
with  keen  delight  of  the  picturesque  as  his  canoe  shot 
around  the  bend  into  sight  of  it. 

The  canoe  was  large  and  powerful,  but  well  filled. 
An  Indian  knelt  in  the  stern ;  amidships  was  well  laden 
with  duffle  of  all  descriptions;  then  the  young  fellow 
sat  in  the  bow.  He  was  a  bright-faced,  eager-eyed, 
curly-haired  young  fellow,  all  enthusiasm  and  fire.  His 
figure  was  trim  and  clean,  but  rather  slender ;  and  his 
movements  were  quick  but  nervous.  When  he  stepped 
carefully  out  on  the  flat  rock  to  which  his  guide  brought 
the  canoe  with  a  swirl  of  the  paddle,  one  initiated  would 
have  seen  that  his  clothes,  while  strong  and  service- 
able, had  been  bought  from  a  sporting  catalogue. 
There  was  a  trimness,  a  neatness,  about  them. 

"  This  is  a  good  place,"  he  said  to  the  guide,  "  well 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  137 

camp  here."  Then  he  turned  up  the  steep  bank  with- 
out looking  back. 

"  Hullo !  "  he  called  in  a  cheerful,  unembarrassed 
fashion  to  Thorpe  and  Charley.  "  How  are  you? 
Care  if  I  camp  here?  What  you  making?  By  Jove! 
I  never  saw  a  canoe  made  before.  I'm  going  to  watch 
you.  Keep  right  at  it." 

He  sat  on  one  of  the  outcropping  boulders  and  took 
off  his  hat. 

"  Say !  you've  got  a  great  place  here !  You  here  all 
summer?  Hullo!  you've  got  a  deer  hanging  up.  Are 
there  many  of  'em  around  here  ?  I'd  like  to  kill  a  deer 
first  rate.  I  never  have.  It's  sort  of  out  of  season  now, 
isn't  it?" 

"  We  only  kill  the  bucks,"  replied  Thorpe. 

"  I  like  fishing,  too,"  went  on  the  boy ;  "  are  there 
any  here?  In  the  pool?  John,"  he  called  to  his  guide, 
"  bring  me  my  fishing  tackle." 

In  a  few  moments  he  was  whipping  the  pool  with 
long,  graceful  drops  of  the  fly.  He  proved  to  be  adept. 
Thorpe  and  Injin  Charley  stopped  work  to  watch  him. 
At  first  the  Indian's  stolid  countenance  seemed  a  trifle 
doubtful.  After  a  time  it  cleared. 

"Good!"  he  grunted. 

"  You  do  that  well,"  Thorpe  remarked.  "  Is  it  diffi- 
cult?" 

"  It  takes  practice,"  replied  the  boy.  "  See  that 
riffle?  "  He  whipped  the  fly  lightly  within  six  inches 
of  a  little  suction  hole;  a  fish  at  once  rose  and  struck. 

The  others  had  been  little  fellows  and  easily  handled. 
At  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes  the  newcomer  landed  a 
fine  two-pounder. 

"  That  must  be  fun,"  commented  Thorpe.  "  I  never 
happened  to  get  in  with  fly-fishing.  I'd  like  to  try  it 
sometime." 

"Try  it  now!"  urged  the  boy,  enchanted  that  be 
could  teach  a  woodsman  anything. 


138  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  No,"  Thorpe  declined,  "  not  to-night,  to-morrow 
perhaps." 

The  other  Indian  had  by  now  finished  the  erection 
of  a  tent,  and  had  begun  to  cook  supper  over  a  little 
sheet-iron  camp  stove.  Thorpe  and  Charley  could 
smell  ham. 

"  You've  got  quite  a  pantry,"  remarked  Thorpe. 

"  Won't  you  eat  with  me?"  proffered  the  boy  hos- 
pitably. 

But  Thorpe  declined.  He  could,  however,  see 
canned  goods,  hard  tack,  and  condensed  milk. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  the  boy  approached  the 
older  man's  camp,  and,  with  a  charming  diffidence, 
asked  permission  to  sit  awhile  at  their  fire. 

He  was  full  of  delight  over  everything  that  savored 
of  the  woods,  or  woodscraft.  The  most  trivial  and 
everyday  affairs  of  the  life  interested  him.  His  eager 
questions,  so  frankly  proffered,  aroused  even  the  taci- 
turn Charley  to  eloquence.  The  construction  of  the 
shelter,  the  cut  of  a  deer's  hide,  the  simple  process  oi 
"  jerking  "  venison,  —  all  these  awakened  his  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  It  must  be  good  to  live  in  the  woods,"  he  said  with 
a  sigh,  "  to  do  all  things  for  yourself.  It's  so  free!  " 

The  men's  moccasins  interested  him.  He  asked  a 
dozen  questions  about  them,  —  how  they  were  ctrt, 
whether  they  did  not  hurt  the  feet,  how  long  they 
would  wear.  He  seemed  surprised  to  learn  that  they 
are  excellent  in  cold  weather. 

"  I  thought  any  leather  would  wet  through  in  the 
snow! "  he  cried.  "  I  wish  I  could  get  a  pair  some- 
where!" he  exclaimed.  "You  don't  know  where  I 
could  buy  any,  do  you?  "  he  asked  of  Thorpe. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  he,  "  perhaps  Charley 
here  will  make  you  a  pair." 

"  Will  you,  Charley?  "  cried  the  boy. 

"  I  mak'  him,"  replied  the  Indian  stolidly.         \ 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  139 

Ttie  many-voiced  night  of  the  woods  descended  close 
about  the  little  camp  fire,  and  its  soft  breezes  wafted 
stray  sparks  here  and  there  like  errant  stars.  The 
newcomer,  with  shining  eyes,  breathed  deep  in  satis- 
faction. He  was  keenly  alive  to  the  romance,  the 
grandeur,  the  mystery,  the  beauty  of  the  littlest  things, 
seeming  to  derive  a  deep  and  solid  contentment  from 
the  mere  contemplation  of  the  woods  and  its  ways  and 
creatures. 

"  I  just  do  love  this ! "  he  cried  again  and  again, 
"  Oh,  it's  great,  after  all  that  fuss  down  there!  "  and  he 
cried  it  so  fervently  that  the  other  men  present  smiled; 
but  so  genuinely  that  the  smile  had  in  it  nothing  but 
kindliness. 

"  I  came  out  for  a  month,"  said  he  suddenly,  "  and 
I  guess  I'll  stay  the  rest  of  it  right  here.  You'll  let 
me  go  with  you  sometimes  hunting,  won't  you?  "  he 
appealed  to  them  with  the  sudden  open-heartedness 
of  a  child.  "  I'd  like  first  rate  to  kill  a  deer." 

"  Sure,"  said  Thorpe,  "  glad  to  have  you." 

"  My  name  is  Wallace  Carpenter,"  said  the  boy  with 
a  sudden  unmistakable  air  of  good-breeding. 

"  Well,"  laughed  Thorpe,  "  two  old  woods  loafers 
like  us  haven't  got  much  use  for  names.  Charley  here 
is  called  Geezigut,  and  mine's  nearly  as  bad;  but  I 
guess  plain  Charley  and  Harry  will  do." 

"  All  right,  Harry,"  replied  Wallace. 

After  the  young  fellow  had  crawled  into  the  sleeping 
bag  which  his  guide  had  spread  for  him  over  a  fragrant 
layer  of  hemlock  and  balsam,  Thorpe  and  his  com- 
panion smoked  one  more  pipe.  The  whip-poor-wills 
called  back  and  forth  across  the  river.  Down  in  the 
thicket,  fine,  clear,  beautiful,  like  the  silver  thread  of 
a  dream,  came  the  notes  of  the  white-throat  —  trie 
nightingale  of  the  North.  Injin  Charley  knocked  the 
last  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

"  Him  nice  boy!  "  said  he. 


Chapter  XIX 


rHE  young  fellow  stayed  three  weeks,  and  was 
a  constant  joy  to  Thorpe.     His  enthusiasms 
were  so  whole-souled;  his  delight  so  perpetual; 
his  interest  so  fresh!    The  most  trivial  expedients  of 
woods  lore  seemed  to  him  wonderful.    A  dozen  times 
a  day  he  exclaimed  in  admiration  or  surprise  over  some 
bit  of  woodcraft  practiced  by  Thorpe  or  one  of  the 
Indians. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  lived  here  six  weeks 
and  only  brought  in  what  you  could  carry  on  your 
backs!  "  he  cried. 

"  Sure,"  Thorpe  replied. 

"  Harry,  you're  wonderful !  I've  got  a  whole  canoe 
load,  and  imagined  I  was  travelling  light  and  roughing 
it.  You  beat  Robinson  Crusoe !  He  had  a  whole  ship 
to  draw  from." 

"  My  man  Friday  helps  me  out,"  answered  Thorpe, 
laughingly  indicating  Injin  Charley. 

Nearly  a  week  passed  before  Wallace  managed  to 
kill  a  deer.  The  animals  were  plenty  enough;  but  the 
young  man's  volatile  and  eager  attention  stole  his 
patience.  And  what  few  running  shots  offered,  he 
missed,  mainly  because  of  buck  fever.  Finally,  by  a 
lucky  chance,  he  broke  a  four-year-old's  neck,  drop- 
ping him  in  his  tracks.  The  hunter  was  delighted 
He  insisted  on  doing  everything  for  himself  —  cruel 
hard  work  it  was  too  —  including  the  toting  and  skin- 
ning. Even  the  tanning  he  had  a  share  in.  At  first 
he  wanted  the  hide  cured,  "  with  the  hair  on."  Injia 
Charley  explained  that  the  fur  would  drop  out  It 
was  the  wrong  season  of  the  year  for  pelts. 

140 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  141 

"Then  we'll  have  buckskin  and  I'll  get  a  buckskin 
shirt  out  of  it,"  suggested  Wallace. 

Injin  Charley  agreed.  One  day  Wallace  returned 
from  fishing  in  the  pool  to  find  that  the  Indian  had 
cut  out  the  garment,  and  was  already  sewing  it  to- 
gether. 

"  Oh !  "  he  cried,  a  little  disappointed,  "  I  wanted  to 
see  it  done!  " 

Injin  Charley  merely  grunted.  To  make  a  buckskin 
shirt  requires  the  hides  of  three  deer.  Charley  had 
supplied  the  other  two,  and  wished  to  keep  the  young 
man  from  finding  it  out. 

Wallace  assumed  the  woods  life  as  a  man  would 
assume  an  unaccustomed  garment.  It  sat  him  well, 
and  he  learned  fast,  but  he  was  always  conscious  of  it. 
He  liked  to  wear  moccasins,  and  a  deer  knife;  he  liked 
to  cook  his  own  supper,  or  pluck  the  fragrant  hemlock 
browse  for  his  pillow.  Always  he  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  realize  and  to  savor  fully  the  charm,  the  picturesque- 
ness,  the  romance  of  all  that  he  was  doing  and  seeing. 
To  Thorpe  these  things  were  a  part  of  everyday  life; 
matters  of  expedient  or  necessity.  He  enjoyed  them, 
but  subconsciously,  as  one  enjoys  an  environment. 
Wallace  trailed  the  cloak  of  his  glories  in  frank  admira- 
tion of  their  splendor. 

This  double  point  of  view  brought  the  men  very 
close  together.  Thorpe  liked  the  boy  because  he  was 
open-hearted,  free  from  affectation,  assumptive  of  no 
superiority,  —  in  short,  because  he  was  direct  and  sin- 
cere, although  in  a  manner  totally  different  from 
Thorpe's  own  directness  and  sincerity.  Wallace,  on 
his  part,  adored  in  Thorpe  the  free,  open-air  life,  the 
adventurous  quality,  the  quiet  hidden  power,  the  re- 
sourcefulness and  self-sufficiency  of  the  pioneer.  He 
was  too  young  as  yet  to  go  behind  the  picturesque  or 
romantic;  so  he  never  thought  to  inquire  of  himself 
what  Thorpe  did  there  in  the  wilderness,  or  indeed  if 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

he  did  anything  at  all.  He  accepted  Thorpe  for  what 
he  thought  him  to  be,  rather  than  for  what  he  might 
think  him  to  be.  Thus  he  reposed  unbounded  confi- 
dence in  him. 

After  a  while,  observing  the  absolute  ingenuousness 
of  the  boy,  Thorpe  used  to  take  him  from  time  to  time 
on  some  of  his  daily  trips  to  the  pines.  Necessarily 
he  explained  partially  his  position  and  the  need  of 
secrecy.  Wallace  was  immensely  excited  and  impor- 
tant at  learning  a  secret  of  such  moment,  and  deeply 
flattered  at  being  entrusted  with  it. 

Some  may  trunk  that  here,  considering  the  magni- 
tude of  the  interests  involved,  Thorpe  committed  an 
indiscretion.  It  may  be;  but  if  so,  it  was  practically 
;an  inevitable  indiscretion.  Strong,  reticent  characters 
like  Thorpe's  prove  the  need  from  time  to  time  of 
violating  their  own  natures,  of  running  counter  to 
their  ordinary  habits  of  mind  and  deed.  It  is  a  neces- 
sary relaxation  of  the  strenuous,  a  debauch  of  the  soul. 
Its  analogy  in  the  lower  plane  is  to  be  found  in  the 
dissipations  of  men  of  genius;  or  still  lower  in  the 
orgies  of  fighters  out  of  training.  Sooner  or  later 
Thorpe  was  sure  to  emerge  for  a  brief  space  from  that 
iron-bound  silence  of  the  spirit,  of  which  he  himself 
•was  the  least  aware.  It  was  not  so  much  a  hunger  for 
affection,  as  the  desire  of  a  strong  man  temporarily  to 
get  away  from  his  strength.  Wallace  Carpenter  be- 
came in  his  case  the  exception  to  prove  the  rule. 

Little  by  little  the  eager  questionings  of  the  youth 
extracted  a  full  statement  of  the  situation.  He  learned 
of  the  timber-thieves  up  the  river,  of  their  present 
operations;  and  their  probable  plans;  of  the  valuable 
pine  lying  still  unclaimed;  of  Thorpe's  stealthy  raid 
into  the  enemy's  country.  It  looked  big  to  him, — 
epic!  These  were  tremendous  forces  in  motion,  here 
was  intrigue,  here  was  direct  practical  application  of 
the  powers  he  had  been  playing  with. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  143 

"  Why,  it's  great !  It's  better  than  any  book  I  ever 
read!" 

He  wanted  to  know  what  he  could  do  to  help. 

"  Nothing  except  keep  quiet,"  replied  Thorpe,  al- 
ready uneasy,  not  lest  the  boy  should  prove  unreliable, 
but  lest  his  very  eagerness  to  seem  unconcerned  should 
arouse  suspicion.  "  You  mustn't  try  to  act  any  dif- 
ferent. If  the  men  from  up-river  come  bv,  be  just  as 
cordial  to  them  as  you  can,  and  don't  a\_z  mysterious 
and  important." 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Wallace,  bubbling  with  excite- 
ment. "  And  then  what  do  you  do  —  after  you  get  the 
timber  estimated?" 

"  I'll  go  South  and  try,  quietly,  to  raise  some  money. 
That  will  be  difficult,  because,  you  see,  people  don't 
know  me ;  and  I  am  not  in  a  position  to  let  them  look 
over  the  timber.  Of  course  it  will  be  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  my  judgment.  They  can  go  themselves  to  the 
Land  Office  and  pay  their  money.  There  won't  be 
any  chance  of  my  making  way  with  that.  The  investors 
will  become  possessed  of  certain  '  descriptions '  lying 
in  this  country,  all  right  enough.  The  rub  is,  will 
they  have  enough  confidence  in  me  and  my  judgment 
to  believe  the  timber  to  be  what  I  represent  it?  " 

"  I  see,"  commented  Wallace,  suddenly  grave. 

That  evening  Injin  Charley  went  on  with  his  canoe 
building.  He  melted  together  in  a  pot,  resin  and  pitch. 
The  proportion  he  determined  by  experiment,  for  the 
mixture  had  to  be  neither  hard  enough  to  crack  nor 
soft  enough  to  melt  in  the  sun.  Then  he  daubed  the 
mess  over  all  the  seams.  Wallace  superintended  the 
operation  for  a  time  in  silence. 

"  Harry,"  he  said  suddenly  with  a  crisp  decision  new 
to  his  voice,  "  will  you  take  a  little  walk  with  me  down 
by  the  dam.  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

They  strolled  to  the  edge  of  the  bank  and  stood  for 
a  moment  looking  at  the  swirling  waters. 


144  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  logging,"  began 
Wallace.  "  Start  from  the  beginning.  Suppose,  for 
instance,  you  had  bought  this  pine  here  we  were  talking 
about,  —  what  would  be  your  first  move?" 

They  sat  side  by  side  on  a  log,  and  Thorpe  explained. 
He  told  of  the  building  of  the  camps,  the  making  of 
the  roads;  the  cutting,  swamping,  travoying,  skidding; 
the  banking  and  driving.  Unconsciously  a  little  of  the 
battle  clang  crept  into  his  narrative.  It  became  a 
struggle,  a  gasping  tug  and  heave  for  supremacy  be- 
tween the  man  and  the  wilderness.  The  excitement 
of  war  was  in  it.  When  he  had  finished,  Wallace  drew 
a  deep  breath. 

"  When  I  am  home,"  said  he  simply,  "  I  live  in  a 
Dig  house  on  the  Lake  Shore  Drive.  It  is  heated  by 
steam  and  lighted  by  electricity.  I  touch  a  button  or 
turn  a  screw,  and  at  once  I  am  lighted  and  warmed. 
At  certain  hours  meals  are  served  me.  I  don't  know 
how  they  are  cooked,  or  where  the  materials  come 
from.  Since  leaving  college  I  have  spent  a  little  time 
down  town  every  day;  and  then  I've  played  golf  or 
tennis  or  ridden  a  horse  in  the  park.  The  only  real 
thing  left  is  the  sailing.  The  wind  blows  just  as  hard 
and  the  waves  mount  just  as  high  to-day  as  they  did 
when  Drake  sailed.  All  the  rest  is  tame.  We  do  little 
imitations  of  the  real  thing  with  blue  ribbons  tied  to 
them,  and  think  we  are  camping  or  roughing  it.  This 
life  of  yours  is  glorious,  is  vital,  it  means  something  in 
the  march  of  the  world;  —  and  I  doubt  whether  ours 
does.  You  are  subduing  the  wilderness,  extending  the 
frontier.  After  you  will  come  the  backwoods  farmer 
to  pull  up  the  stumps;  and  after  him  the  big  farmer 
and  the  cities." 

The  young  follow  spoke  with  unexpected  swiftness 
and  earnestness.  Thorpe  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking,"  said  the  boy, 
flushing.  "  You  are  surprised  that  I  can  be  in  earnest 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  145 

about  anything.  I'm  out  of  school  up  here.  Let  me 
shout  and  play  with  the  rest  of  the  children." 

Thorpe  watched  him  with  sympathetic  eyes,  but  with 
lips  that  obstinately  refused  to  say  one  word.  A  woman 
would  have  felt  rebuffed.  The  boy's  admiration,  how- 
ever, rested  on  the  foundation  of  the  more  manly  quali- 
ties he  had  already  seen  in  his  friend.  Perhaps  this 
very  aloofness,  this  very  silent,  steady-eyed  power  ap- 
pealed to  him. 

"  I  left  college  at  nineteen  because  my  father  died," 
said  he.  "  I  am  now  just  twenty-one.  A  large  estate 
descended  to  me,  and  I  have  had  to  care  for  its  invest- 
ments all  alone.  I  have  one  sister,  —  that  is  all." 

"  So  have  I,"  cried  Thorpe,  and  stopped. 

"  The  estates  have  not  suffered,"  went  on  the  boy 
simply.  "  I  have  done  well  with  them.  But,"  he  cried 
fiercely,  "  I  hate  it!  It  is  petty  and  mean  and  worry- 
ing and  nagging!  That's  why  I  was  so  glad  to  get 
out  in  the  woods." 

He  paused. 

"  Have  some  tobacco,"  said  Thorpe. 

Wallace  accepted  with  a  nod. 

"  Now,  Harry,  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  to  yon. 
It  is  this ;  you  need  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  buy  your 
land.  Let  me  supply  it,  and  come  in  as  half  partner." 

An  expression  of  doubt  crossed  the  landlooker's 
face. 

"  Oh  pkase!"  cried  the  boy,  "  I  do  want  to  get  in 
something  real!  It  will  be  the  making  of  me!" 

"  Now  see  here,"  interposed  Thorpe  suddenly,  "  you 
don't  even  know  my  name." 

"  I  know  you"  replied  the  boy. 

"  My  name  is  Harry  Thorpe,"  pursued  the  other. 
"  My  father  was  Henry  Thorpe,  an  embezzler." 

"  Harry,"  replied  Wallace  soberly,  "  I  am  sorry  I 
made  you  say  that.  I  do  not  care  for  your  name  — 
except  perhaps  to  put  it  in  the  articles  of  partnership, 


146  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

—  and  I  have  no  concern  with  your  ancestry.  I  tell 
you  it  is  a  favor  to  let  me  in  on  this  deal.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  lumbering,  but  I've  got  eyes. 
I  can  see  that  big  timber  standing  up  thick  and  tall, 
and  I  know  people  make  profits  in  the  business.  It 
'sn't  a  question  of  the  raw  material  surely,  and  you 
have  experience." 

"  Not  so  much  as  you  think,"  interposed  Thorpe. 

"  There  remains,"  went  on  Wallace  without  atten- 
tion to  Thorpe's  remark,  "  only  the  question  of " 

"  My  honesty,"  interjected  Thorpe  grimly. 

"  No !  "  cried  the  boy  hotly,  "  of  your  letting  me  in 
on  a  good  thing!  " 

Thorpe  considered  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

"  Wallace,"  he  said  gravely  at  last,  "  I  honestly  do 
think  that  whoever  goes  into  this  deal  with  me  will 
make  money.  Of  course  there's  always  chances  against 
it.  But  I  am  going  to  do  my  best.  I've  seen  other  men 
fail  at  it,  and  the  reason  they've  failed  is  because  they 
did  not  demand  success  of  others  and  of  themselves. 
That's  it;  success!  When  a  general  commanding 
troops  receives  a  report  on  something  he's  ordered 
done,  he  does  not  trouble  himself  with  excuses;  —  he 
merely  asks  whether  or  not  the  thing  was  accomplished. 
Difficulties  don't  count.  It  is  a  soldier's  duty  to  per- 
form the  impossible.  Well,  that's  the  way  it  ought  to 
be  with  us.  A  man  has  no  right  to  come  to  me  and 
say,  '  I  failed  because  such  and  such  things  happened.' 
Either  he  should  succeed  in  spite  of  it  all ;  or  he  should 
step  up  and  take  his  medicine  without  whining.  Well, 
I'm  going  to  succeed!  " 

The  man's  accustomed  aloofness  had  gone.  His 
eye  flashed,  his  brow  frowned,  the  muscles  of  his  cheeks 
contracted  under  his  beard.  In  the  bronze  light  of 
evening  he  looked  like  a  fire-breathing  statue  to  that 
great  ruthless  god  he  had  himself  invoked,  —  Success. 

Wallace  gazed  at  him  with  fascinated  admiration. 

\ 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  147 

"Then  you  will?"  he  asked  tremulously. 

"  Wallace,"  he  replied  again,  "  they'll  say  you  have 
been  the  victim  of  an  adventurer,  but  the  result  will 
prove  them  wrong.  If  I  weren't  perfectly  sure  of  this, 
I  wouldn't  think  of  it,  for  I  like  you,  and  I  know  you 
want  to  go  into  this  more  out  of  friendship  for  me  and 
because  your  imagination  is  touched,  than  from  any 
business  sense.  But  I'll  accept,  gladly.  And  I'll  do 
my  best!" 

"  Hooray ! "  cried  the  boy,  throwing  his  cap  up  in 
the  air.  "  We'll  do  'em  up  in  the  first  round !  " 

At  last  when  Wallace  Carpenter  reluctantly  quitted 
his  friends  on  the  Ossawinamakee,  he  insisted  on 
leaving  with  them  a  variety  of  the  things  he  had 
brought. 

"  I'm  through  with  them,"  said  he.  "  Next  time  I 
come  up  here  we'll  have  a  camp  of  our  own,  won't  we, 
Harry?  And  I  do  feel  that  I  am  awfully  in  you  fellows' 
debt.  You've  given  me  the  best  time  I  have  ever  had 
in  my  life,  and  you've  refused  payment  for  the  mocca- 
sins and  things  you've  made  for  me.  I'd  feel  much 
better  if  you'd  accept  them,  —  just  as  keepsakes." 

"  All  right,  Wallace,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  and  much 
obliged." 

"  Don't  forget  to  come  straight  to  me  when  you  get 
through  estimating,  now,  will  you?  Come  to  the  house 
and  stay.  Our  compact  holds  now,  honest  Injin; 
doesn't  it?"  asked  the  boy  anxiously. 

"  Honest  Injin,"  laughed  Thorpe.     "  Gqod-by." 

The  little  canoe  shot  away  down  the  current.  The 
last  Injin  Charley  and  Thorpe  saw  of  the  boy  was  as 
he  turned  the  curve.  His  hat  was  off  and  waving  in 
his  hand,  his  curls  were  blowing  in  the  breeee,  his 
eyes  sparkled  with  bright  good-will,  and  his  lips  parted 
in  a  cheery  halloo  of  farewell. 

"  Him  nice  boy,"  repeated  Injin  Charley,  turning  to 
his  canoe. 


Chapter  XX 


rHUS  Thorpe  and  the  Indian  unexpectedly 
found  themselves  in  the  possession  of  luxury. 
The  outfit  had  not  meant  much  to  Wallace 
Carpenter,  for  he  had  bought  it  in  the  city,  where  such 
things  are  abundant  and  excite  no  remark;  but  to  the 
woodsman  each  article  possessed  a  separate  and  par- 
ticular value.  The  tent,  an  iron  kettle,  a  side  of  bacon, 
oatmeal,  tea,  matches,  sugar,  some  canned  goods,  a 
box  of  hard-tack,  —  these,  in  the  woods,  represented 
wealth.  Wallace's  rifle  chambered  the  .38  Winchester 
cartridge,  which  was  unfortunate,  for  Thorpe's  .44  had 
barely  a  magazineful  left. 

The  two  men  settled  again  into  their  customary 
ways  of  life.  Things  went  much  as  before,  except  that 
the  flies  and  mosquitoes  became  thick.  To  men  as 
hardened  as  Thorpe  and  the  Indian,  these  pests  were 
not  as  formidable  as  they  would  have  been  to  anyone 
directly  from  the  city,  but  they  were  sufficiently  annoy- 
ing. Thorpe's  old  tin  pail  was  pressed  into  service  as 
a  smudge-kettle.  Every  evening  about  dusk,  when  the 
insects  first  began  to  emerge  from  the  dark  swamps, 
Charley  would  build  a  tiny  smoky  fire  in  the  bottom 
of  the  pail,  feeding  it  with  peat,  damp  moss,  punk  maple, 
and  other  inflammable  smoky  fuel.  This  censer  swung 
twice  or  thrice  about  the  tent,  effectually  cleared  it. 
Besides,  both  men  early  established  on  their  cheeks  an 
invulnerable  glaze  of  a  decoction  of  pine  tar,  oil,  and 
a  pungent  herb.  Towards  the  close  of  July,  however, 
the  insects  began  sensibly  to  diminish,  both  in  numbers 
and  persistency. 

148 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  149 

Up  to  the  present  Thorpe  had  enjoyed  a  clear  field. 
Now  two  men  came  down  from  above  and  established 
a  temporary  camp  in  the  woods  half  a  mile  below  the 
dam.  Thorpe  soon  satisfied  himself  that  they  were 
picking  out  a  route  for  the  logging  road.  Plenty 
which  could  be  cut  and  travoyed  directly  to  the  bank- 
ing ground  lay  exactly  along  the  bank  of  the  stream; 
but  every  logger  possessed  of  a  tract  of  timber  tries 
each  year  to  get  in  some  that  is  easy  to  handle  and 
some  that  is  difficult.  Thus  the  average  of  expense  is 
maintained. 

The  two  men,  of  course,  did  not  bother  themselves 
with  the  timber  to  be  travoyed,  but  gave  their  entire 
attention  to  that  lying  further  back.  Thorpe  was  en- 
abled thus  to  avoid  them  entirely.  He  simply  trans- 
ferred his  estimating  to  the  forest  by  the  stream.  Once 
he  met  one  of  the  men ;  but  was  fortunately  in  a  country 
that  lent  itself  to  his  pose  of  hunter.  The  other  he  did 
not  see  at  all. 

But  one  day  he  heard  him.  The  two  up-river  men 
were  following  carefully  but  noisily  the  bed  of  a  little 
creek.  Thorpe  happened  to  be  on  the  side-hill,  so  he 
seated  himself  quietly  until  they  should  have  moved  on 
down.  One  of  the  men  shouted  to  the  other,  who, 
crashing  through  a  thicket,  did  not  hear.  "  Ho-o-o! 
Dyer! "  the  first  repeated.  "  Here's  that  infernal  comer; 
over  here !  " 

"  Yop!  "  assented  the  other.    "  Coming!  " 

Thorpe  recognized  the  voice  instantly  as  that  oi 
Radway's  sealer.  His  hand  crisped  in  a  gesture  of 
disgust.  The  man  had  always  been  obnoxious  to 
him. 

Two  days  later  he  stumbled  on  their  camp.  He 
paused  in  wonder  at  what  he  saw. 

The  packs  lay  open,  their  contents  scattered  in  every 
direction.  The  fire  had  been  hastily  extinguished  with 
a  bucket  of  water,  and  a  frying  pan  lay  where  it  had 


150  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

been  overturned.  If  the  thing  had  been  possible, 
Thorpe  would  have  guessed  at  a  hasty  and  unpremedi- 
tated flight. 

He  was  about  to  withdraw  carefully  lest  he  be  dis- 
covered, when  he  was  startled  by  a  touch  on  his  elbow. 
It  was  Injin  Charley. 

"  Dey  go  up  river,"  he  said.  "  I  come  see  what  de 
row." 

The  Indian  examined  rapidly  the  condition  of  the 
little  camp. 

"  Dey  look  for  somethin',"  said  he,  making  his  hand 
revolve  as  though  rummaging,  and  indicating  the 
packs. 

"  I  t'ink  dey  see  you  in  de  woods,"  he  concluded. 
"  Dey  go  camp  gettum  boss.  Boss  he  gone  on  river 
trail  two  t'ree  hour." 

"  You're  right,  Charley,"  replied  Thorpe,  who  had 
been  drawing  his  own  conclusions.  "  One  of  them 
knows  me.  They've  been  looking  in  their  packs  for 
their  note-books  with  the  descriptions  of  these  sections 
in  them.  Then  they  piled  out  for  the  boss.  If  I  know 
anything  at  all,  the  boss'll  make  tracks  for  Detroit." 

"Wot  you  do?"  asked  Injin  Charley  curiously. 

M  I  got  to  get  to  Detroit  before  they  do;  that's  all." 

Instantly  the  Indian  became  all  action. 

"  You  come,"  he  ordered,  and  set  out  at  a  rapid  pace 
for  camp. 

There,  with  incredible  deftness,  he  packed  together 
about  twelve  pounds  of  the  jerked  venison  and  a  pair 
of  blankets,  thrust  Thorpe's  waterproof  match  safe  in 
his  pocket,  and  turned  eagerly  to  the  young  man. 

"  You  come,"  he  repeated. 

Thorpe  hastily  unearthed  his  "  descriptions "  and 
wrapped  them  up.  The  Indian,  in  silence,  rearranged 
the  displaced  articles  in  such  a  manner  as  to  relieve 
the  camp  of  its  abandoned  air. 

It  was  nearly  sundown.    Without  a  word  the  two 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  ,Jl 

men  struck  off  into  the  forest,  the  Indian  in  tlie  lead. 
Their  course  was  southeast,  but  Thorpe  asked  no  ques- 
tions. He  followed  blindly.  Soon  he  found  that  if  he 
did  even  that  adequately,  he  would  have  little  atten- 
tion left  for  anything  else.  The  Indian  walked  with 
long,  swift  strides,  his  knees  always  slightly  bent,  even 
at  the  finish  of  the  step,  his  back  hollowed,  his 
shoulders  and  head  thrust  forward.  His  gait  had  a 
queer  sag  in  it,  up  and  down  in  a  long  curve  from  one 
rise  to  the  other.  After  a  time  Thorpe  became  fasci- 
nated in  watching  before  him  this  easy,  untiring  lope, 
hour  after  hour,  without  the  variation  of  a  second's 
fraction  in  speed  nor  an  inch  in  length.  It  was  as 
though  the  Indian  were  made  of  steel  springs.  He 
never  appeared  to  hurry;  but  neither  did  he  ever 
rest. 

At  first  Thorpe  followed  him  with  comparative  ease, 
but  at  the  end  of  three  hours  he  was  compelled  to  put 
forth  decided  efforts  to  keep  pace.  His  walking  was 
no  longer  mechanical,  but  conscious.  When  it  be- 
comes so,  a  man  soon  tires.  Thorpe  resented  the  in- 
equalities, the  stones,  the  roots,  the  patches  of  soft 
ground  which  lay  in  his  way.  He  felt  dully  that  they 
were  not  fair.  He  could  negotiate  the  distance;  but 
anything  else  was  a  gratuitous  insult. 

Then  suddenly  he  gained  his  second  wind.  He  felt 
better  and  stronger  and  moved  freer.  For  second  wind 
is  only  to  a  very  small  degree  a  question  of  the  breath- 
ing power.  It  is  rather  the  response  of  the  vital  forces 
to  a  will  that  refuses  to  heed  their  first  grumbling  pro- 
tests. Like  dogs  by  the  fire  they  do  their  utmost  to 
convince  their  master  that  the  limit  of  freshness  is 
reached;  but  at  last,  under  the  whip,  spring  to  their 
work. 

At  midnight  Injin  Charley  called  a  halt.  He  spread 
his  blanket,  leaned  on  one  elbow  long  enough  to  eat 
3  strip  of  dried  meat,  and  fell  asleep.  Thorpe  imitated 


152  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

his  example.  Three  hours  later  the  Indian  roused  his 
companion,  and  the  two  set  out  again. 

Thorpe  had  walked  a  leisurely  ten  days  through  the 
woods  far  to  the  north.  In  that  journey  he  had  en- 
countered many  difficulties.  Sometimes  he  had  been 
tangled  for  hours  at  a  time  in  a  dense  and  almost 
impenetrable  thicket.  Again  he  had  spent  a  half  day 
in  crossing  a  treacherous  swamp.  Or  there  had  inter- 
posed in  his  trail  abattises  of  down  timber  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  wide  over  which  it  had  been  necessary  to 
pick  a  precarious  way  eight  or  ten  feet  from  the 
ground. 

This  journey  was  in  comparison  easy.  Most  of  the 
time  the  travellers  walked  along  high  beech  ridges  or 
through  the  hardwood  forests.  Occasionally  they 
were  forced  to  pass  into  the  lowlands,  but  always  little 
saving  spits  of  highland  reaching  out  towards  each 
other  abridged  the  necessary  wallowing.  Twice  they 
swam  rivers. 

At  first  Thorpe  thought  this  was  because  the  country 
was  more  open ;  but  as  he  gave  better  attention  to  their 
route,  he  learned  to  ascribe  it  entirely  to  the  skill  of 
his  companion.  The  Indian  seemed  by  a  species  of 
instinct  to  select  the  most  practicable  routes.  He 
seemed  to  know  how  the  land  ought  to  lie,  so  that  he 
was  never  deceived  by  appearances  into  entering  a 
cul  de  sac.  His  beech  ridges  always  led  to  other  beech 
ridges;  his  hardwood  never  petered  out  into  the  terrible 
black  swamps.  Sometimes  Thorpe  became  sensible 
that  they  had  commenced  a  long  detour;  but  it  was 
never  an  abrupt  detour,  unforeseen  and  blind. 

From  three  o'clock  until  eight  they  walked  continu- 
ally without  a  pause,  without  an  instant's  breathing 
spell.  Then  they  rested  a  half  hour,  ate  a  little  venison, 
and  smoked  a  pipe. 

An  hour  after  noon  they  repeated  the  rest.  Thorpe 
rose  with  a  certain  physical  reluctance.  The  Indian 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  153 

seemed  as  fresh  —  or  as  tired  —  as  when  he  started. 
At  sunset  they  took  an  hour.  Then  forward  again  by 
the  dim  intermittent  light  of  the  moon  and  stars 
through  the  ghostly  haunted  forest,  until  Thorpe 
thought  he  would  drop  with  weariness,  and  was  men- 
tally incapable  of  contemplating  more  than  a  hundred 
steps  in  advance. 

"  When  I  get  to  that  square  patch  of  light,  111  quit," 
he  would  say  to  himself,  and  struggle  painfully  the  re- 
quired twenty  rods. 

"  No,  I  won't  quit  here,"  he  would  continue,  "  111 
make  it  that  birch.  Then  I'll  lie  down  and  die." 

And  so  on.  To  the  actual  physical  exhaustion  of 
Thorpe's  muscles  was  added  that  immense  mental  wear- 
iness which  uncertainty  of  the  time  and  distance  inflicts 
on  a  man.  The  journey  might  last  a  week,  for  all  he 
knew.  In  the  presence  of  an  emergency  these  men  of 
action  had  actually  not  exchanged  a  dozen  words.  The 
Indian  led;  Thorpe  followed. 

When  the  halt  was  called,  Thorpe  fell  into  his 
blanket  too  weary  even  to  eat.  Next  morning  sharp, 
shooting  pains,  like  the  stabs  of  swords,  ran  through 
his  groin. 

"  You  come,"  repeated  the  Indian,  stolid  as  ever. 

When  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  the  travellers  sud- 
denly ran  into  a  trail,  which  as  suddenly  dived  into  a 
spruce  thicket  On  the  other  side  of  it  Thorpe  unex- 
pectedly found  himself  in  an  extensive  clearing,  dotted 
with  the  blackened  stumps  of  pines.  Athwart  the  dis- 
tance he  could  perceive  the  wide  blue  horizon  of  Lake 
Michigan.  He  had  crossed  the  Upper  Peninsula  on 
foot! 

"  Boat  come  by  to-day,"  said  Injin  Charley,  indicat- 
ing the  tall  stacks  of  a  mill.  *'  Him  no  stop.  You  male* 
him  stop  take  you  with  him.  You  get  train  Mackinaw 
Qty  to-night.  Dose  men,  dey  on  dat  train.*' 

Thorpe  calculated  rapidly.    The  enemy  would  re- 


154  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

quire,  even  with  their  teams,  a  day  to  cover  the  thirty 
miles  to  the  fishing  village  of  Munising,  whence  the 
stage  ran  each  morning  to  Seney,  the  present  terminal 
of  the  South  Shore  Railroad.  He,  Thorpe,  on  foot 
and  three  hours  behind,  could  never  have  caught  the 
stage.  But  from  Seney  only  one  train  a  day  was  de- 
spatched to  connect  at  Mackinaw  City  with  the  Michi- 
gan Central,  and  on  that  one  train,  due  to  leave  this 
very  morning,  the  up-river  man  was  just  about  pulling 
out.  He  would  arrive  at  Mackinaw  City  at  four  o'clock 
of  the  afternoon,  where  he  would  be  forced  to  wait  until 
eight  in  the  evening.  By  catching  a  boat  at  the  mill 
to  which  Injin  Charley  had  led  him,  Thorpe  could 
still  make  the  same  train.  Thus  the  start  in  the  race 
for  Detroit's  Land  Office  would  be  fair. 

"  All  right/'  he  cried,  all  his  energy  returning  to 
him.  "Here  goes!  We'll  beat  him  out  yet!" 

"  You  come  back  ?  "  inquired  the  Indian,  peering 
with  a  certain  anxiety  into  his  companion's  eyes. 

"  Come  back!  "  cried  Thorpe.    "  You  bet  your  hat!  H 

"  I  wait,"  replied  the  Indian,  and  was  gone. 

"  Oh,  Charley! "  shouted  Thorpe  in  surprise. 
"  Come  on  and  get  a  square  meal,  anyway." 

But  the  Indian  was  already  on  his  way  back  to  the 
distant  Ossawinamakee. 

Thorpe  hesitated  in  two  minds  whether  to  follow 
and  attempt  further  persuasion,  for  he  felt  keenly 
the  interest  the  other  had  displayed.  Then  he  saw, 
over  the  headland  to  the  east,  a  dense  trail  of  black 
smoke.  He  set  off  on  a  stumbling  run  towards  th<* 
mill. 


Chapter  XXI 


JT  y  E  arrived  out  of  breath  in  a  typical  little  mitf 
m  m  town  consisting  of  the  usual  unpainted  houses, 
M.  JL  the  saloons,  mill,  office,  and  general  store.  To 
the  latter  he  addressed  himself  for  information. 

The  proprietor,  still  sleepy,  was  mopping  out  the 
place. 

"  Does  that  boat  stop  here?  "  shouted  Thorpe  across 
the  suds. 

"  Sometimes,"  replied  the  man  somnolently. 

" Not  always?" 

"  Only  when  there's  freight  for  her.** 

"Doesn't  she  stop  for  passengers?" 

"  Nope." 

"  How  does  she  know  when  there's  freight? " 

"  Oh,  they  signal  her  from  the  mill  —  "  but  Thorpe 
was  gone. 

At  the  mill  Thorpe  dove  for  the  engine  room.  He 
knew  that  elsewhere  the  clang  of  machinery  and  the 
hurry  of  business  would  leave  scant  attention  for  him. 
And  besides,  from  the  engine  room  the  signals  would 
be  given.  He  found,  as  is  often  the  case  in  north- 
country  sawmills,  a  Scotchman  in  charge. 

"  Does  the  boat  stop  here  this  morning?  "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  Weel,"  replied  the  engineer  with  fearful  delibera- 
tion, "  I  canna  say.  But  I  hae  received  na  orders  to 
that  effect." 

"  Can't  you  whistle  her  in  for  me?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  I  canna,"  answered  the  engineer,  promptly  enough 
this  time. 

155 


156  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"Why  not?" 

"Ye're  na  what  a  body  might  call  freight" 

"  No  other  way  out  of  it?  " 

"  Na." 

Thorpe  was  seized  with  an  idea. 

"  Here!  "  he  cried.  "  See  that  boulder  over  there? 
I  want  to  ship  that  to  Mackinaw  City  by  freight  on  this 
boat." 

The  Scotchman's  eyes  twinkled  appreciatively. 

"I'm  dootin'  ye  hae  th'  freight-bill  from  the  office,** 
he  cbjected  simply. 

"  See  here,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  I've  just  got  to  get 
that  boat.  It's  worth  twenty  dollars  to  me,  and  I'll 
square  it  with  the  captain.  There's  your  twenty." 

The  Scotchman  deliberated,  looking  aslant  at  the 
ground  and  thoughtfully  oiling  a  cylinder  with  a  greasy 
rag. 

"  It'll  na  be  a  matter  of  life  and  death?"  he  asked 
hopefully.  "  She  aye  stops  for  life  and  death." 

"  No,"  replied  Thorpe  reluctantly.  Then  with  an 
explosion,  "  Yes,  by  God,  it  is!  If  I  don't  make  that 
boat,  I'll  kill  you." 

The  Scotchman  chuckled  and  pocketed  the  money. 
"  I'm  dootin'  that's  in  order,"  he  replied.  "  I'll  no  be 
party  to  any  such  proceedin's.  I'm  goin'  noo  for  a  fresh 
pail  of  watter,"  he  remarked,  pausing  at  the  door,  "  but 
as  a  wee  item  of  information:  yander's  th'  wheestle 
rope ;  and  a  mon  wheestles  one  short  and  one  long  for 
th'  boat." 

He  disappeared.  Thorpe  seized  the  cord  and  gave 
the  signal.  Then  he  ran  hastily  to  the  end  of  the  long 
lumber  docks,  and  peered  with  great  eagerness  in  the 
direction  of  the  black  smoke. 

The  steamer  was  as  yet  concealed  behind  a  low  spit 
of  land  which  ran  out  from  the  west  to  form  one  side 
of  the  harbor.  In  a  moment,  however,  her  bows  ap- 
peared, headed  directly  down  towards  the  Straits  of 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  157 

Mackinaw.  When  opposite  the  little  bay  Thorpe  con- 
fidently looked  to  see  her  turn  in,  but  to  his  consterna- 
tion she  held  her  course.  He  began  to  doubt  whether 
his  signal  had  been  heard.  Fresh  black  smoke  poured 
from  the  funnel;  the  craft  seemed  to  gather  speed  as 
she  approached  the  eastern  point.  Thorpe  saw  his 
hopes  sailing  away.  He  wanted  to  stand  up  absurdly 
and  wave  his  arms  to  attract  attention  at  that  impos- 
sible distance.  He  wanted  to  sink  to  the  planks  in 
apathy.  Finally  he  sat  down,  and  with  dull  eyes 
watched  the  distance  widen  between  himself  and  his 
aims. 

And  then  with  a  grand  free  sweep  she  turned  and 
headed  directly  for  him. 

Other  men  might  have  wept  or  shouted.  Thorpe 
merely  became  himself,  imperturbable,  commanding, 
apparently  cold.  He  negotiated  briefly  with  the  captain, 
paid  twenty  dollars  more  for  speed  and  the  privilege  of 
landing  at  Mackinaw  City.  Then  he  slept  for  eight 
hours  on  end  and  was  awakened  in  time  to  drop  into  a 
small  boat  which  deposited  him  on  the  broad  sand 
beach  of  the  lower  peninsula. 


Chapter  XXII 


rHE  train  was  just  leisurely  making  up  for  de- 
parture. Thorpe,  dressed  as  he  was  in  old 
"  pepper  and  salt "  garments  patched  with 
buckskin,  his  hat  a  flopping  travesty  on  headgear,  his 
moccasins,  worn  and  dirty,  his  face  bearded  and 
bronzed,  tried  as  much  as  possible  to  avoid  attention. 
He  sent  an  instant  telegram  to  Wallace  Carpenter  con- 
ceived as  follows: 

"  Wire  thirty  thousand  my  order  care  Land  Office, 
Detroit,  before  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  Do 
it  if  you  have  to  rustle  all  night.  Important." 

Then  he  took  a  seat  in  the  baggage  car  on  a  pile  of 
boxes  and  philosophically  waited  for  the  train  to  start. 
He  knew  that  sooner  or  later  the  man,  provided  he 
were  on  the  train,  would  stroll  through  the  car,  and  he 
wanted  to  be  out  of  the  way.  The  baggage  man  proved 
friendly,  so  Thorpe  chatted  with  him  until  after  bed- 
time. Then  he  entered  the  smoking  car  and  waited 
patiently  for  morning. 

So  far  the  affair  had  gone  very  well.  It  had  depended 
on  personal  exertions,  and  he  had  made  it  go.  Now 
he  was  forced  to  rely  on  outward  circumstances.  He 
argued  that  the  up-river  man  would  have  first  to  make 
his  financial  arrangements  before  he  could  buy  in  the 
land,  and  this  would  give  the  landlooker  a  chance  to 
get  in  ahead  at  the  office.  There  would  probably  be 
no  difficulty  about  that.  The  man  suspected  nothing. 
But  Thorpe  had  to  confess  himself  fearfully  uneasy 
about  his  own  financial  arrangements.  That  was  the 
rub.  Wallace  Carpenter  had  been  sincere  enough  in 

K8 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  159 

his  informal  striking  of  partnership,  but  had  he  re- 
tained his  enthusiasm?  Had  second  thought  convicted 
him  of  folly?  Had  conservative  business  friends  dis- 
suaded him?  Had  the  glow  faded  in  the  reality  of  his 
accustomed  life?  And  even  if  his  good-will  remained 
unimpaired,  would  he  be  able,  at  such  short  notice,  to 
raise  so  large  a  sum  ?  Would  he  realize  from  Thorpe's 
telegram  the  absolute  necessity  of  haste? 

At  the  last  thought,  Thorpe  decided  to  send  a  second 
message  from  the  next  station.  He  did  so.  It  read: 
"  Another  buyer  of  timber  on  same  train  with  me. 
Must  have  money  at  nine  o'clock  or  lose  land."  He 
paid  day  rates  on  it  to  insure  immediate  delivery. 
Suppose  the  boy  should  be  away  from  home ! 

Everything  depended  on  Wallace  Carpenter;  and 
Thorpe  could  not  but  confess  the  chance  slender.  One 
other  thought  made  the  night  seem  long.  Thorpe  had 
but  thirty  dollars  left. 

Morning  came  at  last,  and  the  train  drew  in  and 
stopped.  Thorpe,  being  in  the  smoking  car,  dropped 
off  first  and  stationed  himself  near  the  exit  where  he 
could  look  over  the  passengers  without  being  seen. 
They  filed  past.  Two  only  he  could  accord  the  role 
of  master  lumbermen  —  all  the  rest  were  plainly 
drummers  or  hayseeds.  And  in  these  two  Thorpe  rec- 
ognized Daly  and  Morrison  themselves.  They  passed 
within  ten  feet  of  him,  talking  earnestly  together.  At 
the  curb  they  hailed  a  cab  and  drove  away.  Thorpe 
with  satisfaction  heard  them  call  the  name  of  a  hotel.  - 

It  was  still  two  hours  before  the  Land  Office  would 
be  open.  Thorpe  ate  breakfast  at  the  depot  and  wan- 
dered slowly  up  Jefferson  Avenue  to  Woodward,  a 
strange  piece  of  our  country's  medievalism  in  modern 
surroundings.  He  was  so  occupied  with  his  own 
thoughts  that  for  some  time  he  remained  unconscious 
of  the  attention  he  was  attracting.  Then,  with  a  start, 
he  felt  that  everyone  was  staring  at  him.  The  hour  was 


160  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

early,  so  that  few  besides  the  working  classes  were 
abroad,  but  he  passed  one  lady  driving  leisurely  to  an 
early  train  whose  frank  scrutiny  brought  him  to  him- 
self. He  became  conscious  that  his  broad  hat  was 
weather-soiled  and  limp,  that  his  flannel  shirt  was 
faded,  that  his  "  pepper  and  salt "  trousers  were 
patched,  that  moccasins  must  seem  as  anachronistic  as 
chain  mail.  It  abashed  him.  He  could  not  know  that 
it  was  all  wild  and  picturesque,  that  his  straight  and 
muscular  figure  moved  with  a  grace  quite  its  own  and 
the  woods',  that  the  bronze  of  his  skin  contrasted 
splendidly  with  the  clearness  of  his  eye,  that  his  whole 
bearing  expressed  the  serene  power  that  comes  only 
from  the  confidence  of  battle.  The  woman  in  the  car- 
riage saw  it,  however. 

"  He  is  magnificent!  "  she  cried.  "  I  thought  such 
men  had  died  with  Cooper! " 

Thorpe  whirled  sharp  on  his  heel  and  returned  at 
once  to  a  boarding-house  off  Fort  Street,  where  he  had 
"  outfitted  "  three  months  before.  There  he  reclaimed 
his  valise,  shaved,  clothed  himself  in  linen  and  cheviot 
once  more,  and  sauntered  slowly  over  to  the  Land 
Office  to  await  its  opening. 


Chapter  XXIII 


yil  nine  o'clock  neither  of  the  partners  had 

>nf  appeared.  Thorpe  entered  the  office  and  ap- 
^  Ji  preached  the  desk. 

"  Is  there  a  telegram  here  for  Harry  Thorpe  ?"  he 
inquired. 

The  clerk  to  whom  he  addressed  himself  merely 
motioned  with  his  head  toward  a  young  fellow  behind 
the  railing  in  a  corner.  The  latter,  without  awaiting 
the  question,  shifted  comfortably  and  replied: 

"  No." 

At  the  same  instant  steps  were  heard  in  the  corridor, 
the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Morrison  appeared  on  the 
sill.  Then  Thorpe  showed  the  stuff  of  which  he  was 
made. 

"  Is  this  the  desk  for  buying  Government  lands?  " 
he  asked  hurriedly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  clerk." 

"  I  have  some  descriptions  I  wish  to  buy  in." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  clerk,  "  what  township?  " 

Thorpe  detailed  the  figures,  which  he  knew  by  heart, 
the  clerk  took  from  a  cabinet  the  three  books  contain- 
ing them,  and  spread  them  out  on  the  counter.  At  this 
moment  tke  bland  voice  of  Mr.  Morrison  made  itself 
heard  at  Thorpe's  elbow. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Smithers,"  it  said  with  the 
deliberation  of  the  consciously  great  man.  "  I  have 
a  few  descriptions  I  would  like  to  buy  in  the  northern 
peninsula." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Morrison.  Archie  there  will 
attend  to  you,  Archie,  see  what  Mr.  Morrison  wishes." 

161 


162  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

The  lumberman  and  the  other  clerk  consulted  in  a 
low  voice,  after  which  the  official  turned  to  fumble 
among  the  records.  Not  finding  what  he  wanted,  he 
approached  Smithers.  A  whispered  consultation  en- 
sued between  these  two.  Then  Smithers  called: 

"  Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Morrison.  This  gentleman  is 
looking  over  these  townships,  and  will  have  finished 
in  a  few  minutes." 

Morrison's  eye  suddenly  became  uneasy. 

"  I  am  somewhat  busy  this  morning,"  he  objected 
with  a  shade  of  command  in  his  voice. 

"  If  this  gentleman ?  "  suggested  the  clerk  deli- 
cately 

"  I  am  sorry,"  put  in  Thorpe  with  brevity,  "  my 
time,  too,  is  valuable." 

Morrison  looked  at  him  sharply. 

"  My  deal  is  a  big  one,"  he  snapped.  "  I  can  prob- 
ably arrange  with  this  gentleman  to  let  him  have  his 
farm." 

"  I  claim  precedence,"  replied  Thorpe  calmly. 

"  Well,"  said  Morrison  swift  as  light,  "I'll  tell  you, 
Smithers.  I'll  leave  my  list  of  descriptions  and  a  check 
with  you.  Give  me  a  receipt,  and  mark  my  lands  off 
after  you've  finished  with  this  gentleman." 

Now  Government  and  State  lands  are  the  property 
of  the  man  who  pays  for  them.  Although  the  clerk's 
receipt  might  not  give  Morrison  a  valid  claim;  never- 
theless it  would  afford  basis  for  a  lawsuit.  Thorpe 
»-aw  the  trap,  and  interposed. 

"  Hold  on,"  he  interrupted,  "  I  claim  precedence. 
You  can  give  no  receipt  for  any  land  in  these  town- 
ships until  after  my  business  is  transacted.  I  have 
reason  to  believe  that  this  gentleman  and  myself  arc 
both  after  the  same  descriptions." 

"What!  "  shouted  Morrison,  assuming  surprise. 

"  You  will  have  to  await  your  turn,  Mr.  Morrison," 
said  the  clerk,  virtuous  before  so  many  witnesses. 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  163 

The  business  man  was  in  a  white  rage  of  excite- 
ment. 

"  I  insist  on  my  application  being  filed  at  once!  "  he 
cried  waving  his  check.  "  I  have  the  money  right  here 
to  pay  for  every  acre  of  it ;  and  if  I  know  the  law,  the 
first  man  to  pay  takes  the  land." 

He  slapped  the  check  down  on  the  rail,  and  hit  it 
a  number  of  times  with  the  flat  of  his  hand.  Thorpe 
turned  and  faced  him  with  a  steel  look  in  his  level 
eyes. 

"  Mr.  Morrison,"  he  said, "  you  are  quite  right.  The 
first  man  who  pays  gets  the  land;  but  I  have  won 
the  first  chance  to  pay.  You  will  kindly  step  one 
side  until  I  finish  my  business  with  Mr.  Smithers 
here." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  the  amount  actually  with  you,** 
said  the  clerk,  quite  respectfully,  "  because  if  you  have 
not,  Mr.  Morrison's  claim  will  take  precedence." 

"  I  would  hardly  have  any  business  in  a  land  office, 
if  I  did  not  know  that,"  replied  Thorpe,  and  began  his 
dictation  of  the  description  as  calmly  as  though  his 
inside  pocket  contained  the  required  amount  in  bank 
bills. 

Thorpe's  hopes  had  sunk  to  zero.  After  all,  looking 
at  the  matter  dispassionately,  why  should  he  expect 
Carpenter  to  trust  him,  a  stranger,  with  so  large  a 
sum?  It  had  been  madness.  Only  the  blind  confi- 
dence of  the  fighting  man  led  him  further  into  the 
struggle.  Another  would  have  given  up,  would  have 
stepped  aside  from  the  path  of  this  bona-fide  purchaser 
with  the  money  in  his  hand. 

But  Thorpe  was  of  the  kind  that  hangs  on  until  the 
last  possible  second,  not  so  much  in  the  expectation  of 
winning,  as  in  sheer  reluctance  to  yield.  Such  men 
shoot  their  last  cartridge  before  surrendering,  swim 
the  last  ounce  of  strength  from  their  arms  before 
throwing  them  up  to  sink,  search  coolly  until  the  latest 


i<54  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

moment  for  a  way  from  the  burning  building1, — and 
sometimes  come  face  to  face  with  miracles. 

Thorpe's  descriptions  were  contained  in  the  battered 
little  note-book  he  had  carried  with  him  in  the  woods. 
For  each  piece  of  land  first  there  came  the  township 
described  by  latitude  and  east-and-west  range.  After 
this  generic  description  followed  another  figure  rep- 
resenting the  section  of  that  particular  district.  So 
49 —  17  W  —  8,  meant  section  8,  of  the  township  on 
range  49  north,  17  west.  If  Thorpe  wished  to  pur- 
chase the  whole  section,  that  description  would  suffice- 
On  the  other  hand,  if  he  wished  to  buy  only  one  forty, 
he  described  its  position  in  the  quarter-section.  Thus 
SW — NW  49 — 17  —  8,  meant  the  southwest  forty 
of  the  northwest  quarter  of  section  8  in  the  township 
already  described. 

The  clerk  marked  across  each  square  of  his  map 
as  Thorpe  read  them,  the  date  and  the  purchaser's 
name. 

In  his  note-book  Thorpe  had,  of  course,  entered  the 
briefest  description  possible.  Now,  in  dictating  to  the 
clerk,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  specifying  each  sub- 
division. This  gained  some  time.  Instead  of  saying 
simply,  "  Northwest  quarter  of  section  8,"  he  made  of 
it  four  separate  descriptions,  as  follows :  —  Northwest 
quarter  of  northwest  quarter;  northeast  of  northwest 
quarter;  southwest  of  northwest  quarter;  and  south- 
east of  northwest  quarter. 

He  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  read  the  descriptions  in 
succession,  but  so  scattered  them  that  the  clerk,  put- 
ting down  the  figures  mechanically,  had  no  idea  of  the 
amount  of  unnecessary  work  he  was  doing.  The 
minute  hands  of  the  clock  dragged  around.  Thorpe 
droned  down  the  long  column.  The  clerk  scratched 
industriously,  repeating  in  a  half  voice  each  descrip- 
tion as  it  was  transcribed. 

At  length  the  task  was  finished.    It  became  neces- 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  165 

sary  to  type  duplicate  lists  of  the  descriptions.  While 
the  somnolent  youth  finished  this  task,  Thorpe  listened 
for  the  messenger  boy  on  the  stairs. 

A  faint  slam  was  heard  outside  the  rickety  old  build- 
ing. Hasty  steps  sounded  along  the  corridor.  The 
landlooker  merely  stopped  the  drumming  of  his  fingers 
on  the  broad  arm  of  the  chair.  The  door  flew  open, 
and  Wallace  Carpenter  walked  quickly  to  him. 

Thorpe's  face  lighted  up  as  he  rose  to  greet  his  part- 
ner. The  boy  had  not  forgotten  their  compact  after 
all. 

"Then  it's  all  right?"  queried  the  latter  breath- 
lessly. 

"  Sure/'  answered  Thorpe  heartily,  "  got  'em  in 
good  shape." 

At  the  same  time  he  was  drawing  the  youth  beyond 
the  vigilant  watchfulness  of  Mr.  Morrison. 

"  You're  just  in  time,"  he  said  in  an  undertone* 
"  Never  had  so  close  a  squeak.  I  suppose  you  have 
cash  or  a  certified  check:  that's  all  they'll  take  here." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Carpenter  blankly. 

"  Haven't  you  that  money?  "  returned  Thorpe  quick 
as  a  hawk. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  isn't  it  here?  "  cried  Wallace  in 
consternation.  "  I  wired  Duncan,  my  banker,  here 
last  night,  and  received  a  reply  from  him.  He  answered 
that  he'd  see  to  it.  Haven't  you  seen  him?" 

"  No,"  repeated  Thorpe  in  his  turn. 

"  What  can  we  do?  " 

"  Can  you  get  your  check  certified  here  near  at 
hand?"  ' 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  go  do  it.  And  get  a  move  on  you.  You 
have  precisely  until  that  boy  there  finishes  clicking  that 
machine.  Not  a  second  longer." 

"  Can't  you  get  them  to  wait  a  few  minutes?" 

"  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe,  "  do  you  see  that  white- 


166  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

whiskered  old  lynx  in  the  corner?  That's  Morrison, 
the  man  who  wants  to  get  our  land.  If  I  fail  to  plank 
down  the  cash  the  very  instant  it  is  demanded,  he  gets 
£is  chance.  And  he'll  take  it.  Now,  go.  Don't  hurry 
tintil  you  get  beyond  the  door:  then  fly! " 

Thorpe  sat  down  again  in  his  broad-armed  chair  and 
resumed  his  drumming.  The  nearest  bank  was  six 
blocks  away.  He  counted  over  in  his  mind  the  steps 
of  Carpenter's  progress ;  now  to  the  door,  now  in  the 
next  block,  now  so  far  beyond.  He  had  just  escorted 
him  to  the  door  of  the  bank,  when  the  clerk's  voice 
broke  in  on  him. 

"  Now,"  Smithers  was  saying,  "  I'll  give  you  a  re- 
ceipt for  the  amount,  and  later  will  send  to  your  address 
the  title  deeds  of  the  descriptions." 

Carpenter  had  yet  to  find  the  proper  official,  to 
identify  himself,  to  certify  the  check,  and  to  return. 
It  was  hopeless.  Thorpe  dropped  his  hands  in  sur- 
render. 

Then  he  saw  the  boy  lay  the  two  typed  lists  before 
his  principal,  and  dimly  he  perceived  that  the  youth, 
shamefacedly,  was  holding  something  bulky  toward 
himself. 

"  Wh  —  what  is  it  ?  "  he  stammered,  drawing  his 
hand  back  as  though  from  a  red-hot  iron. 

"  You  asked  me  for  a  telegram,"  said  the  boy 
stubbornly,  as  though  trying  to  excuse  himself, 
"  and  I  didn't  just  catch  the  name,  anyway.  When 
I  saw  it  on  those  lists  I  had  to  copy,  I  thought  of 
this  here." 

"  Where'd  you  get  it  ? "  asked  Thorpe  breath- 
lessly. 

"  A  fellow  came  here  early  and  left  it  for  you  while 
I  was  sweeping  out,"  explained  the  boy.  "  Said  he  had 
to  catch  a  train.  It's  yours  all  right,  ain't  it?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Thorpe. 

He  took  the  envelope  and  walked  uncertainly  to  the 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  167 

tall  window.  He  looked  out  at  the  chimneys.  After 
a  moment  he  tore  open  the  envelope. 

"  I  hope  there's  no  bad  news,  sir?  "  said  the  clerk, 
startled  at  the  paleness  of  the  face  Thorpe  turned  to 
the  desk. 

"  No,"  replied  the  landlooker.  "  Give  me  a  receipt. 
There's  a  certified  check  for  your  money!" 


Chapter  XXIV 


71  "TOW  that  the  strain  was  over,  Thorpe  expe- 
/%  /  rienced  a  great  weariness.  The  long  journey 
Jl  V  through  the  forest,  his  sleepless  night  on  the 
train,  the  mental  alertness  of  playing  the  game  with 
shrewd  foes,  —  all  these  stretched  his  fibers  out  one  by 
one  and  left  them  limp.  He  accepted  stupidly  the 
clerk's  congratulations  on  his  success,  left  the  name  of 
the  little  hotel  off  Fort  Street  as  the  address  to  which 
to  send  the  deeds,  and  dragged  himself  off  with  in- 
finite fatigue  to  his  bed-room.  There  he  fell  at  once 
into  profound  unconsciousness. 

He  was  awakened  late  in  the  afternoon  by  the  sen- 
sation of  a  strong  pair  of  young  arms  around  his 
shoulders,  and  the  sound  of  Wallace  Carpenter's  fresh 
voice  crying  in  his  ears: 

"Wake  up,  wake  up!  you  Indian!  You've  been 
asleep  all  day,  and  I've  been  waiting  here  all  that  time. 
I  want  to  hear  about  it.  Wake  up,  I  say! " 

Thorpe  rolled  to  a  sitting  posture  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  and  smiled  uncertainly.  Then  as  the  sleep 
drained  from  his  brain,  he  reached  out  his  hand. 

"  You  bet  we  did  'em,  Wallace,"  said  he,  "  but  it 
looked  like  a  hard  proposition  for  a  while." 

"  How  was  it?  Tell  me  about  it!  "  insisted  the  boy 
eagerly.  "  You  don't  know  how  impatient  I've  been. 
The  clerk  at  the  Land  Office  merely  told  me  it  was 
all  right.  How  did  you  fix  it?" 

While  Thorpe  washed  and  shaved  and  leisurely 
freshened  himself,  he  detailed  his  experiences  of  the 
last  week. 

"  And,"  he  concluded  gravely,  "  there's  only  one 

168 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  169 

man  I  know  or  ever  heard  of  to  whom  I  would  have 
considered  it  worth  while  even  to  think  of  sending  that 
telegram,  and  you  are  he.  Somehow  I  knew  you'd 
come  to  the  scratch." 

"  It's  the  most  exciting  thing  I  ever  heard  of," 
sighed  Wallace  drawing  a  full  breath,  "  and  I  wasn't 
in  it!  It's  the  sort  of  thing  I  long  for.  If  I'd  only 
waited  another  two  weeks  before  coming  down ! " 

"  In  that  case  we  couldn't  have  gotten  hold  of  the 
money,  remember,"  smiled  Thorpe. 

"  That's  so."  Wallace  brightened  "  I  did  count, 
didn't  I?" 

"  I  thought  so  about  ten  o'clock  this  morning," 
Thorpe  replied. 

"  Suppose  you  hadn't  stumbled  on  their  camp ;  sup* 
pose  Injin  Charley  hadn't  seen  them  go  up-river; 
suppose  you  hadn't  struck  that  little  mill  town  fust  at 
the  time  you  did ! "  marvelled  Wallace. 

"  That's  always  the  way,"  philosophized  Thorpe  in 
reply.  "  It's  the  old  story  of  '  if  the  horse-shoe  nail 
hadn't  been  lost/  you  know.  But  we  got  there;  and 
that's  the  important  thing." 

**  We  did!  "  cried  the  boy,  his  enthusiasm  rekindling; 
**  and  to-night  we'll  celebrate  with  the  best  dinner  we 
can  buy  in  town ! " 

Thorpe  was  tempted,  but  remembered  the  thirty 
dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  looked  doubtful. 

Carpenter  possessed,  as  part  of  his  volatile  enthusi- 
astic temperament,  keen  intuitions. 

"£>on't  refuse!"  he  begged.  "I've  set  my  heart 
on  giving  my  senior  partner  a  dinner.  Surely  you 
won't  refuse  to  be  my  guest  here,  as  I  was  yours  in 
the  woods  I" 

"  Wallace,**  said  Thorpe,  "  I'll  go  you.  I'd  like  to 
dine  with  you ;  but  moreover,  I'll  confess,  I  should  like 
to  eat  a  good  dinner  again.  It's  been  more  than  a  year 
since  X*ve  seen  a  salad,  or  heard  of  after-dinner  coffee." 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Come  on  then,"  cried  Wallace. 

Together  they  sauntered  through  the  lengthening 
shadows  to  a  certain  small  restaurant  near  Woodward 
Avenue,  then  much  in  vogue  among  Detroit's  epi- 
cures. It  contained  only  a  half  dozen  tables,  but  was 
spotlessly  clean,  and  its  cuisine  was  unrivalled.  A  large 
fireplace  near  the  center  of  the  room  robbed  it  of  half 
its  restaurant  air ;  and  a  thick  carpet  on  the  floor  took 
the  rest.  The  walls  were  decorated  in  dark  colors 
after  the  German  style.  Several  easy  chairs  grouped 
before  the  fireplace,  and  a  light  wicker  table  heaped 
with  magazines  and  papers  invited  the  guests  to  lounge 
while  their  orders  were  being  prepared. 

Thorpe  was  not  in  the  least  Sybaritic  in  his  tastes, 
but  he  could  not  stifle  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  at  sinking 
so  naturally  into  the  unobtrusive  little  comforts  which 
the  ornamental  life  offers  to  its  votaries.  They  rose 
up  around  him  and  pillowed  him,  and  were  grateful  to 
the  tired  fibers  of  his  being.  His  remoter  past  had 
enjoyed  these  things  as  a  matter  of  course.  They  had 
framed  the  background  to  his  daily  habit.  Now  that 
the  background  had  again  slid  into  place  on  noiseless 
grooves,  Thorpe  for  the  first  time  became  conscious 
that  his  strenuous  life  had  indeed  been  in  the  open 
air,  and  that  the  winds  of  earnest  endeavor,  while 
bracing,  had  chilled.  Wallace  Carpenter,  with  the 
poet's  insight  and  sympathy,  saw  and  understood  this 
feeling. 

"  I  want  you  to  order  this  dinner,"  said  he,  handing 
over  to  Thorpe  the  card  which  an  impossibly  correct 
waiter  presented  him.  "  And  I  want  it  a  good  one. 
I  want  you  to  begin  at  the  beginning  and  skip  nothing. 
Pretend  you  are  ordering  just  the  dinner  you  would 
like  to  offer  your  sister,"  he  suggested  on  a  sudden  in- 
spiration. "  I  assure  you  I'll  try  to  be  just  as  critical 
and  exigent  as  she  would  be." 

Thorpe  took  up  the  card  d**"wnily. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  171 

**  There  are  no  oysters  and  clams  now,"  said  he,  "  so 
we'll  pass  right  on  to  the  soup.  It  seems  to  me  a  dese- 
cration to  pretend  to  replace  them.  We'll  have  a 
bisque,"  he  told  the  waiter,  "  rich  and  creamy.  Then 
planked  whitefish,  and  have  them  just  a  light  crisp 
brown.  You  can  bring  some  celery,  too,  if  you  have 
it  fresh  and  good.  And  for  entree  tell  your  cook  to 
make  some  macaroni  au  gratin,  but  the  inside  must  be 
soft  and  very  creamy,  and  the  outside  very  crisp. 
I  know  it's  a  queer  dish  for  a  formal  dinner  like  ours," 
he  addressed  Wallace  with  a  little  laugh,  "  but  it's 
very,  very  good.  We'll  have  roast  beef,  rare  and  juicy; 
—  if  you  bring  it  any  way  but  a  cooked  red,  I'll  send  it 
back;  —  and  potatoes  roasted  with  the  meat,  and  brown 
gravy.  Then  the  breast  of  chicken  with  the  salad,  in 
the  French  fashion.  And  I'll  make  the  dressing. 
We'll  have  an  ice  and  some  fruit  for  dessert.  Black 
coffee." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter,  his  pencil  poised. 
"And  the  wines?" 

Thorpe  ruminated  sleepily. 

"  A  rich  red  Burgundy,"  he  decided,  "  for  all  the 
dinner.  If  your  cellar  contains  a  very  good  smooth 
Beaune,  we'll  have  that." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  waiter,  and  departed. 

Thorpe  sat  and  gazed  moodily  into  the  wood  fire- 
Wallace  respected  his  silence.  It  was  yet  too  early  for 
the  fashionable  world,  so  the  two  friends  had  the  place 
to  themselves.  Gradually  the  twilight  fell;  strange 
shadows  leaped  and  died  on  the  wall.  A  boy  dressed 
all  in  white  turned  on  the  lights.  By  and  by  the  waiter 
announced  that  their  repast  awaited  them. 

Thorpe  ate,  his  eyes  half  closed,  in  somnolent  satis- 
faction. Occasionally  he  smiled  contentedly  across  at 
Wallace,  who  smiled  in  response.  After  the  coffee  he 
had  the  waiter  bring  cigars.  They  went  back  between 
the  tables  to  a  little  upholstered  smoking  room,  where 


i;2  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

they  sank  into  the  depths  of  leather  chairs,  and  blew 
the  gray  clouds  of  smoke  towards  the  ceiling.  About 
nine  o'clock  Thorpe  spoke  the  first  word. 

"  I'm  stupid  this  evening,  I'm  afraid,"  said  he,  shak- 
ing himself.  "  Don't  think  on  that  account  I  am  not 
enjoying  your  dinner.  I  believe,"  he  asserted  earnestly, 
"  that  I  never  had  such  an  altogether  comfortable, 
happy  evening  before  in  my  life." 

"  I  know,"  replied  Wallace  sympathetically. 

"  It  seems  just  now,"  went  on  Thorpe,  sinking  more 
luxuriously  into  his  armchair,  "  that  this  alone  is  liv- 
ing—  to  exist  in  an  environment  exquisitely  toned; 
to  eat,  to  drink,  to  smoke  the  best,  not  like  a  gormand, 
but  delicately  as  an  artist  would.  It  is  the  flower  of 
our  civilization." 

Wallace  remembered  the  turmoil  of  the  wilderness 
brook;  the  little  birch  knoll,  yellow  in  the  evening 
glow;  the  mellow  voice  of  the  summer  night  crooning 
through  the  pines.  But  he  had  the  rare  tact  to  say 
nothing. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  what  you  needed, 
when  sort  of  tired  out  this  way,"  he  said  abruptly  after 
a  moment, "  is  a  woman  to  understand  and  sympathize  ? 
Wouldn't  it  have  made  this  evening  perfect  to  have 
seen  opposite  you  a  being  whom  you  loved,  who  under- 
stood your  moments  of  weariness,  as  well  as  your 
moments  of  strength?" 

"  No,"  replied  Thorpe,  stretching  his  arms  over  his 
head,  "  a  woman  would  have  talked  It  takes  a  friend 
and  a  man,  to  know  when  to  keep  silent  for  three 
straight  hours." 

The  waiter  brought  the  bill  on  a  tray,  and  Carpenter 
paid  it. 

"  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe  suddenly  after  a  long  in- 
terval, "  we'll  borrow  enough  by  mortgaging  our  land 
to  supply  the  working  expenses.  I  suppose  capital 
will  have  to  investigate,  and  that'll  take  time;  but  I  can 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  173 

begin  to  pick  up  a  crew  and  make  arrangements  for 
transportation  and  supplies.  You  can  let  me  have  a 
thousand  dollars  on  the  new  Company's  note  for 
initial  expenses.  We'll  draw  up  articles  of  partnership 
to-morrow." 


Chapter  XXV 


It  "TEXT  day  the  articles  of  partnership  were 
l\f  drawn;  and  Carpenter  gave  his  note  for  the 
X  V  necessary  expenses.  Then  in  answer  to  a  pen- 
cilled card  which  Mr.  Morrison  had  evidently  left  at 
Thorpe's  hotel  in  person,  both  young  men  called  at  the 
lumberman's  place  of  business.  They  were  ushered 
immediately  into  the  private  office. 

Mr.  Morrison  was  a  smart  little  man  with  an  ingra- 
tiating manner  and  a  fishy  eye.  He  greeted  Thorpe 
with  marked  geniality. 

"My  opponent  of  yesterday!"  he  cried  jocularly. 
*'  Sit  down,  Mr.  Thorpe !  Although  you  did  me  out  of 
some  land  I  had  made  every  preparation  to  purchase, 
I  can't  but  admire  your  grit  and  resourcefulness.  How 
<iid  you  get  here  ahead  of  us?  " 

"  I  walked  across  the  upper  peninsula,  and  caught 
a  boat,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

"  Indeed,  indeed!  "  replied  Mr.  Morrison,  placing  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  together.  "Extraordinary!  Well, 
Mr.  Thorpe,  you  overreached  us  nicely;  and  I  suppose 
we  must  pay  for  our  carelessness.  We  must  have  that 
pine,  even  though  we  pay  stumpage  on  it.  Now  what 
would  you  consider  a  fair  price  for  it?" 

"  It  is  not  for  sale,"  answered  Thorpe. 

"  We'll  waive  all  that.  Of  course  it  is  to  your  in- 
terest to  make  difficulties  and  run  the  price  up  as  high 
as  you  can.  But  my  time  is  somewhat  occupied  just 
at  present,  so  I  would  be  very  glad  to  hear  your  top 
price  —  we  will  come  to  an  agreement  afterwards." 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  Mr.  Morris;^  I  told 
you  the  pine  is  not  for  sale,  and  I  mean  it." 

174 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  175 

"But  surely —  What  did  you  buy  it  for,  then?" 
cried  Mr.  Morrison,  with  evidences  of  a  growing  ex- 
citement. 

"  We  intend  to  manufacture  it." 

Mr.  Morrison's  fishy  eyes  nearly  popped  out  of  his 
head.  He  controlled  himself  with  an  effort. 

"  Mr.  Thorpe,"  said  he,  "  let  us  try  to  be  reasonable. 
Our  case  stands  this  way.  We  have  gone  to  a  great 
deal  of  expense  on  the  Ossawinamakee  in  expectation 
of  undertaking  very  extensive  operations  there.  To 
that  end  we  have  cleared  the  stream,  built  three  dams, 
and  have  laid  the  foundations  of  a  harbor  and  boom. 
This  has  been  very  expensive.  Now  your  purchase  in- 
cludes most  of  what  we  had  meant  to  log.  You  have, 
roughly  speaking,  about  three  hundred  millions  in 
your  holding,  in  addition  to  which  there  are  several 
millions  scattering  near  it,  which  would  pay  nobody 
but  yourself  to  get  in.  Our  holdings  are  further  up 
stream,  and  comprise  only  about  the  equal  of  yours." 

"  Three  hundred  millions  are  not  to  be  sneezed  at," 
replied  Thorpe. 

"  Certainly  not,"  agreed  Morrison,  suavtly,  gaming 
confidence  from  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  "  Not  in 
this  country.  But  you  must  remember  that  a  man  goes 
into  the  northern  peninsula  only  because  he  can  get 
something  better  there  than  here.  When  the  firm  of 
Morrison  &  Daly  establishes  itself  now,  it  must  be  for 
the  last  time.  We  want  enough  timber  to  do  us  for 
the  rest  of  the  time  we  are  in  business." 

"  In  that  case,  you  will  have  to  hunt  up  another 
locality,"  replied  Thorpe  calmly. 

Morrison's  eyes  flashed.  But  he  retained  his  appear- 
ance of  geniality,  and  appealed  to  Wallace  Carpenter. 

"  Then  you  will  retain  the  advantage  of  our  dams 
and  improvements,"  said  he.  "  Is  that  fair?  " 

"  No,  not  on  the  face  of  it,"  admitted  Thorpe.  "  But 
you  did  your  work  in  a  navigable  stream  for  private 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

purposes,  without  the  consent  of  the  Board  of  Control. 
Your  presence  on  the  river  is  illegal.  You  should  have 
taken  out  a  charter  as  an  Improvement  Company. 
Then,  as  long  as  you  'tended  to  business  and  kept  the 
concern  in  repair,  we'd  have  paid  you  a  toll  per  thou 
sand  feet.  As  soon  as  you  let  it  slide,  however,  the 
works  would  revert  to  the  State.  I  won't  hinder  your 
doing  that  yet;  although  I  might.  Take  out  your  char- 
ter and  fix  your  rate  of  toll." 

"  In  other  words,  you  force  us  to  stay  there  and  run 
a  little  two-by-four  Improvement  Company  for  your 
benefit,  or  else  lose  the  value  of  our  improvements?  " 

"  Suit  yourself,"  answered  Thorpe  carelessly.  "  You 
can  always  log  your  present  holdings." 

"  Very  well,"  cried  Morrison,  so  suddenly  in  a  pas- 
sion that  Wallace  started  back.  "  It's  war!  And  let 
me  tell  you  this,  young  man ;  you're  a  new  concern  and 
we're  an  old  one.  We'll  crush  you  like  that! "  He 
crisped  an  envelope  vindictively,  and  threw  it  in  the 
waste-basket. 

"  Crush  ahead,"  replied  Thorpe  with  great  good 
humor.  "  Good-day,  Mr.  Morrison,"  and  the  two  went 
out. 

Wallace  was  sputtering  and  trembling  with  nervous 
excitement.  His  was  one  of  those  temperaments  which 
require  action  to  relieve  the  stress  of  a  stormy  inter- 
view. He  was  brave  enough,  but  he  would  always 
tremble  in  the  presence  of  danger  until  the  moment  for 
striking  arrived.  He  wanted  to  do  something  at  once. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  see  a  lawyer? "  he  asked. 
"  Oughtn't  we  to  look  out  that  they  don't  take  some 
of  our  pine?  Oughtn't  we " 

"  You  just  leave  all  that  to  me,"  replied  Thorpe. 
"The  first  thing  we  want  to  do  is  to  rustle  some 
money." 

"  And  you  can  leave  that  to  mt"  echoed  Wallace. 
"  I  know  a  little  of  such  things,  and  I  have  business 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  177 

connections  who  know  more.    You  just  get  the  camp 
running." 

"  I'll  start  for  Bay  City  to-night,"  submitted  Thorpe. 
"  There  ought  to  be  a  good  lot  of  lumber-jacks  lying 
around  idle  at  this  time  of  year;  and  it's  a  good  place 
to  outfit  from  because  we  can  probably  get  freight 
rates  direct  by  boat.  We'll  be  a  little  late  in  starting, 
but  we'll  get  in  some  logs  this  winter,  anyway." 


THE 

BLAZED 
TRAIL 

r 

Part  III 
The  Blazing  of  the  Trail 


Chapter   XXVI 


A  LUMBERING  town  after  the  drive  is  a  fear- 

ft  ful  thing.  Men  just  off  the  river  draw  a  deep 
JL  J.  breath,  and  plunge  into  the  wildest  reactionary 
dissipation.  In  droves  they  invade  the  cities,  —  wild, 
picturesque,  lawless.  As  long  as  the  money  lasts,  they 
blow  it  in. 

"  Hot  money!  "  is  the  cry.  "  She's  burnt  holes  in  all 
my  pockets  already! " 

The  saloons  are  full,  the  gambling  houses  overflow, 
all  the  places  of  amusement  or  crime  run  full  blast. 
A  chip  rests  lightly  on  everyone's  shoulder.  Fights 
are  as  common  as  raspberries  in  August.  Often  one 
of  these  formidable  men,  his  muscles  toughened  and 
quickened  by  the  active,  strenuous  river  work,  will  set 
out  to  "  take  the  town  apart."  For  a  time  he  leaves 
rack  and  ruin,  black  eyes  and  broken  teeth  behind  him, 
until  he  meets  a  more  redoubtable  "  knocker  "  and  is 
pounded  and  kicked  into  unconsciousness.  Organized 
gangs  go  from  house  to  house  forcing  the  peaceful  in- 
mates to  drink  from  their  bottles.  Others  take  posses- 
sion of  certain  sections  of  the  street  and  resist  d  fow- 
trance  the  attempts  of  others  to  pass.  Inoffensive 
citizens  are  stood  on  their  heads,  or  shaken  upside 
down  until  the  contents  of  their  pockets  rattle  on  the 
street.  Parenthetically,  these  contents  are  invariably 
returned  to  their  owners.  The  riverman's  object  is  fun, 
not  robbery. 

And  if  rip-roaring,  swashbuckling,  drunken  glory  is 
what  he  is  after,  he  gets  it.  The  only  trouble  is,  that  a 
whole  winter's  hard  work  goes  in  two  or  three  weeks. 


182  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

The  only  redeeming  feature  is,  that  he  is  never,  in  or 
out  of  his  cups,  afraid  of  anything  that  walks  the  earth. 

A  man  comes  out  of  the  woods  or  off  the  drive  with 
two  or  three  hundred  dollars,  which  he  is  only  too 
anxious  to  throw  away  by  the  double  handful.  It 
follows  naturally  that  a  crew  of  sharpers  are  on  hand 
to  find  out  who  gets  it.  They  are  a  hard  lot.  Bold, 
unprincipled  men,  they  too  are  afraid  of  nothing;  not 
even  a  drunken  lumber-jack,  which  is  one  of  the  dan- 
gerous wild  animals  of  the  American  fauna.  Their 
business  is  to  relieve  the  man  of  his  money  as  soon 
as  possible.  They  are  experts  at  their  business. 

The  towns  of  Bay  City  and  Saginaw  alone  in  1878 
supported  over  fourteen  hundred  tough  characters. 
Block  after  block  was  devoted  entirely  to  saloons. 
In  a  radius  of  three  hundred  feet  from  the  famous  old 
Catacombs  could  be  numbered  forty  saloons,  where 
drinks  were  sold  by  from  three  to  ten  "  pretty  waiter 
girls."  When  the  boys  struck  town,  the  proprietors 
and  waitresses  stood  in  their  doorways  to  welcome 
them. 

"  Why,  Jack!  "  one  would  cry,  "  when  did  you  drift 
in?  Tickled  to  death  to  see  you!  Come  in  an'  have 
a  drink.  That  your  chum?  Come  in,  old  man,  and 
have  a  drink.  Never  mind  the  pay;  that's  all  right." 

And  after  the  first  drink,  Jack,  of  course,  had  to 
treat,  and  then  the  chum. 

Or  if  Jack  resisted  temptation  and  walked  resolutely 
on,  one  of  the  girls  would  remark  audibly  to  another. 

"  He  ain't  no  lumber-jack !  You  can  see  that  easy 
'miff !  He's  jest  off  th'  hay-trail!  " 

Ten  to  one  that  brought  him,  for  the  woodsman  is 
above  all  things  proud  and  jealous  of  his  craft. 

In  the  center  of  this  whirlpool  of  iniquity  stood  the 
Catacombs  as  the  hub  from  which  lesser  spokes  in  the 
wheel  radiated.  Any  old  logger  of  the  Saginaw  Valley 
can  tell  you  of  the  Catacombs,  just  as  any  old  logger 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  183 

of  any  other  valley  will  tell  you  of  the  "  Pen,"  the 
"  White  Row,"  the  "  Water  Streets  "  of  Alpena,  Port 
Huron,  Ludington,  Muskegon,  and  a  dozen  other  lum- 
ber towns. 

The  Catacombs  was  a  three-story  building.  In  the 
basement  were  vile,  ill-smelling,  ill-lighted  dens,  small, 
isolated,  dangerous.  The  shanty  boy  with  a  small 
stake,  far  gone  in  drunkenness,  there  tasted  the  last 
drop  of  wickedness,  and  thence  was  flung  unconscious 
and  penniless  on  the  streets.  A  trap-door  directly  into 
the  river  accommodated  those  who  were  inconsiderate 
enough  to  succumb  under  rough  treatment. 

The  second  story  was  given  over  to  drinking.  Polly 
Dickson  there  reigned  supreme,  an  anomaly.  She  was 
as  pretty  and  fresh  and  pure-looking  as  a  child ;  and  at 
the  same  time  was  one  of  the  most  ruthless  and  un- 
scrupulous of  the  gang.  She  could  at  will  exercise  a 
fascination  the  more  terrible  in  that  it  appealed  at  once 
1o  her  victim's  nobler  instincts  of  reverence,  his  capacity 
for  what  might  be  called  aesthetic  fascination,  as  well 
as  his  passions.  When  she  finally  held  him,  she 
crushed  him  as  calmly  as  she  would  a  fly. 

Four  bars  supplied  the  drinkables.  Dozens  of 
"  pretty  waiter  girls  "  served  the  customers.  A  force 
of  professional  fighters  was  maintained  by  the  estab- 
lishment to  preserve  that  degree  of  peace  which 
should  look  to  the  preservation  of  mirrors  and  glass- 
ware. 

The  third  story  contained  a  dance  hall  and  a  theater. 
The  character  of  both  would  better  be  left  to  the  im- 
agination. 

Night  after  night  during  the  season,  this  den  ran  at 
top- steam. 

By  midnight,  when  the  orgy  was  at  its  height,  the 
windows  brilliantly  illuminated,  the  various  bursts  of 
music,  laughing,  cursing,  singing,  shouting,  fighting, 
breaking  in  turn  or  all  togrethev  from  its  open  w 


184  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

it  was,  as  Jackson  Hines  once  expressed  it  to  me,  like 
hell  let  out  for  noon. 

The  respectable  elements  of  the  towns  were  power- 
less. They  could  not  control  the  elections.  Their 
police  would  only  have  risked  total  annihilation  by 
attempting  a  raid.  At  the  first  sign  of  trouble  they 
walked  straightly  in  the  paths  of  their  own  affairs, 
awaiting  the  time  soon  to  come  when,  his  stake 
"  blown-in,"  the  last  bitter  dregs  of  his  pleasure  gulped 
down,  the  shanty  boy  would  again  start  for  the  woods 


Chapter  XXVII 


Tt  "TOW  in  August,  however,  the  first  turmoil  hact 
l\i  died.  The  "jam"  had  boiled  into  town, 
X  V  "  taken  it  apart,"  and  left  the  inhabitants  to 
piece  it  together  again  as  they  could;  the  "  rear  "  had 
not  yet  arrived.  As  a  consequence,  Thorpe  found  the 
city  comparatively  quiet. 

Here  and  there  swaggered  a  strapping  riverman,  his 
small  felt  hat  cocked  aggressively  over  one  eye,  its 
brim  curled  up  behind;  u  cigar  stump  protruding  at  an 
angle  from  beneath  his  sweeping  moustache ;  his  hands 
thrust  into  the  pockets  of  his  trousers,  "  slagged  "  off 
at  the  knee ;  the  spikes  of  his  river  boots  cutting  little 
triangular  pieces  from  the  wooden  sidewalk.  His  eye 
was  aggressively  humorous,  and  the  smile  of  his  face 
was  a  challenge. 

For  in  the  last  month  he  had  faced  almost  certain 
death  a  dozen  times  a  day.  He  had  ridden  logs  down 
the  rapids  where  a  loss  of  balance  meant  in  one  instant 
a  ducking  and  in  the  next  a  blow  on  the  back  from 
some  following  battering-ram;  he  had  tugged  and 
strained  and  jerked  with  his  peavey  under  a  sheer  wall 
of  tangled  timber  twenty  feet  high,  —  behind  which 
pressed  the  full  power  of  the  freshet,  —  only  to  jump 
with  the  agility  of  a  cat  from  one  bit  of  unstable  footing 
to  another  when  the  first  sharp  crack  warned  him  that 
he  had  done  his  work,  and  that  the  whole  mass  was 
about  to  break  down  on  him  like  a  wave  on  the 
shore;  he  had  worked  fourteen  hours  a  day  in 
ice-water,  and  had  slept  damp;  he  had  pried  at 
the  key  log  in  the  railways  on  the  bank  until 

185 


1 86  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

i 

the  whole  pile  had  begun  to  rattle  down  into  the 
river  like  a  cascade,  and  had  jumped,  or  ridden,  or 
even  dived  out  of  danger  at  the  last  second.  In  a 
hundred  passes  he  had  juggled  with  death  as  a  child 
plays  with  a  rubber  balloon.  No  wonder  that  he  has 
brought  to  the  town  and  his  vices  a  little  of  the  lofty 
bearing  of  an  heroic  age.  No  wonder  that  he  fears  no 
man,  since  nature's  most  terrible  forces  of  the  flood 
have  hurled  a  thousand  weapons  at  him  in  vain.  His 
muscles  have  been  hardened,  his  eye  is  quiet  and  sure, 
his  courage  is  undaunted,  and  his  movements  are  as 
quick  and  accurate  as  a  panther's.  Probably  nowhere 
in  the  world  is  a  more  dangerous  man  of  his  hands 
than  the  riverman.  He  would  rather  fight  than  eat, 
especially  when  he  is  drunk,  as,  like  the  cow-boy,  he 
usually  is  when  he  gets  into  town.  A  history  could 
be  written  of  the  feuds,  the  wars,  the  raids  instituted 
^y  one  camp  or  one  town  against  another. 

The  men  would  go  in  force  sometimes  to  another 
city  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  cleaning  it  out.  One 
battle  I  know  of  lasted  nearly  all  night.  Deadly 
weapons  were  almost  never  resorted  to,  unless  indeed 
a  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  of  muscle  behind  a  fist 
hard  as  iron  might  be  considered  a  deadly  weapon. 
A  man  hard  pressed  by  numbers  often  resorted  to  a 
billiard  cue,  or  an  ax,  or  anything  else  that  happened 
to  be  handy,  but  that  was  an  expedient  called  out  by 
necessity.  Knives  or  six-shooters  implied  a  certain 
premeditation  which  was  discountenanced. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  code  of  fair  fighting  obtained 
hardly  at  all.  The  long  spikes  of  river-boots  made  an 
admirable  weapon  in  the  straight  kick.  I  have  seen 
men  whose  faces  were  punctured  as  thickly  as  though 
by  small-pox,  where  the  steel  points  had  penetrated. 
In  a  free-for-all  knock-down-and-drag-out,  kicking, 
gouging,  and  biting  are  all  legitimate.  Anything  to 
injure  the  other  man,  provided  always  you  do  not  knife 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  187 

him.  And  when  you  take  a  half  dozen  of  these  endur- 
ing, active,  muscular,  and  fiery  men,  not  one  entertain- 
ing in  his  innermost  heart  the  faintest  hesitation  or  fear, 
and  set  them  at  each  other  with  the  lightning  tireless- 
ness  of  so  many  wild-cats,  you  get  as  hard  a  fight  as 
you  could  desire.  And  they  seem  to  like  it. 

One  old  fellow,  a  good  deal  of  a  character  in  his 
way,  used  to  be  on  the  "  drive  "  for  a  firm  lumbering 
near  Six  Lakes.  He  was  intensely  loyal  to  his  "  Old 
Fellows,"  and  every  time  he  got  a  little  "  budge  "  in 
him,  he  instituted  a  raid  on  the  town  owned  by  a  rival 
firm.  So  frequent  and  so  severe  did  these  battles  be- 
come that  finally  the  men  wevre  informed  that  another 
such  expedition  would  mean  instant  discharge.  The 
rule  had  its  effect.  The  raids  ceased. 

But  one  day  old  Dan  visited  the  saloon  once  too 
often.  He  became  very  warlike.  The  other  men 
merely  laughed,  for  they  were  strong  enough  them- 
selves to  recognize  firmness  in  others,  and  it  never 
occurred  to  them  that  they  could  disobey  so  absolute 
a  command.  So  finally  Dan  started  out  quite  alone. 

He  invaded  the  enemy's  camp,  attempted  to  clean 
out  the  saloon  with  a  billiard  cue  single  handed,  was 
knocked  down,  and  would  have  been  kicked  to  death 
as  he  lay  on  the  floor  if  he  had  not  succeeded  in  rolling 
under  the  billiard  table  where  the  men's  boots  could 
not  reach  him.  As  it  was,  his  clothes  were  literally  torn 
to  ribbons,  one  eye  was  blacked,  his  nose  broken,  one 
ear  hung  to  its  place  by  a  mere  shred  of  skin,  and  his 
face  and  flesh  were  ripped  and  torn  everywhere  by  the 
"  corks  "  on  the  boots.  Any  but  a  riverman  would 
have  qualified  for  the  hospital.  Dan  rolled  to  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  made  a  sudden  break,  and  escaped. 

But  his  fighting  blood  was  not  all  spilled.  He  raided 
the  butcher-shop,  seized  the  big  carving  knife,  and  re- 
turned to  the  battle  field. 

The   «nemy   decamped  —  rapidly  —  some  of  them 


188  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

through  the  window.  Dan  managed  to  get  in  bat 
one  blow.  He  ripped  the  coat  down  the  man's  back 
as  neatly  as  though  it  had  been  done  with  shears,  one 
clean  straight  cut  from  collar  to  bottom  seam.  A  quar- 
ter of  an  inch  nearer  would  have  split  the  fellow's  back- 
bone. As  it  was,  he  escaped  without  even  a  scratch. 

Dan  commandeered  two  bottles  of  whisky,  and, 
gory  and  wounded  as  he  was,  took  up  the  six-mile 
tramp  home,  bearing  the  knife  over  his  shoulder  as  a 
banner  of  triumph. 

Next  morning,  weak  from  the  combined  effects  of 
war  and  whisky,  he  reported  to  headquarters. 

"  What  is  it,  Dan?  "  asked  the  Old  Fellow  without 
turning. 

"  I  come  to  get  my  time,"  replied  the  riverman 
humbly. 

"  What  for  ?  "  inquired  the  lumberman. 

"  I  have  been  over  to  Howard  City,"  confessed  Dan. 

The  owner  turned  and  looked  him  over. 

"  They  sort  of  got  ahead  of  me  a  little,"  explained 
Dan  sheepishly. 

The  lumberman  took  stock  of  the  old  man's  cuts 
and  bruises,  and  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile. 

"  I  guess  I'll  let  you  off  this  trip,"  said  he.  "  Go 
to  work  —  when  you  can.  I  don't  believe  you'll  go 
back  there  again." 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Dan  humbly. 

And  so  the  life  of  alternate  work  and  pleasure,  both 
full  of  personal  danger,  develops  in  time  a  class  of  men 
whose  like  is  to  be  found  only  among  the  cowboys, 
scouts,  trappers,  and  Indian  fighters  of  our  other 
frontiers.  The  moralists  will  always  hold  up  the  hands 
of  horror  at  such  types;  the  philosopher  will  admire 
them  as  the  last  incarnation  of  the  heroic  age,  when 
the  man  is  bigger  than  his  work.  Soon  the  factories, 
the  machines,  the  mechanical  structures  and  construc- 
tions, the  various  branches  of  co-operation  will  produce 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  189 

Efnaa-atitomatically  institutions  evidently  more  impor- 
tant than  the  genius  or  force  of  any  one  human  being. 
The  personal  element  will  have  become  nearly  elimi- 
nated. In  the  woods  and  on  the  frontier  still  are  many 
whose  powers  are  greater  than  their  works;  whose 
fame  is  greater  than  their  deeds.  They  are  men,  power- 
ful, virile,  even  brutal  at  times;  but  magnificent  with 
the  strength  of  courage  and  resource. 

All  this  may  seem  a  digression  from  the  thread  of 
our  tale,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  necessary  that 
you  understand  the  conditions  of  the  time  and  place 
in  which  Harry  Thorpe  had  set  himself  the  duty  of 
success. 

He  had  seen  too  much  of  incompetent  labor  to  be 
satisfied  with  anything  but  the  best.  Although  his 
ideas  were  not  as  yet  formulated,  he  hoped  to  be  able 
to  pick  up  a  crew  of  first-class  men  from  those  who 
had  come  down  with  the  advance,  or  "  jam,"  of  the 
spring's  drive.  They  should  have  finished  their  orgies 
by  now,  and,  empty  of  pocket,  should  be  found  hang- 
ing about  the  boarding-houses  and  the  quieter  saloons. 
Thorpe  intended  to  offer  good  wages  for  good  men. 
He  would  not  need  more  than  twenty  at  first,  for 
during  the  approaching  winter  he  purposed  to  log  on 
a  very  small  scale  indeed.  The  time  for  expansion 
would  come  later. 

With  this  object  in  view  he  set  out  from  his  hotel 
about  half-past  seven  on  the  day  of  his  arrival,  to  cruise 
about  in  the  lumber-jack  district  already  described. 
The  hotel  clerk  had  obligingly  given  him  the  names  of 
a  number  of  the  quieter  saloons,  where  the  boys  "  hung 
out "  between  bursts  of  prosperity.  In  the  first  of 
these  Thorpe  was  helped  materially  in  his  vague  and 
uncertain  quest  by  encountering  an  old  acquaintance. 

From  the  sidewalk  he  heard  the  vigorous  sounds 
of  a  one-sided  altercation  punctuated  by  frequent  bursts 
of  quickly  silenced  laughter.  Evidently  some  one  was 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

very  angry,  and  the  rest  amused.  After  a  moment 
Thorpe  imagined  he  recognized  the  excited  voice.  So 
he  pushed  open  the  swinging  screen  door  and  entered. 

The  place  was  typical.  Across  one  side  ran  the 
hard-wood  bar  with  foot-rest  and  little  towels  hung 
in  metal  clasps  under  its  edge.  Behind  it  was  a  long 
mirror,  a  symmetrical  pile  of  glasses,  a  number  of 
plain  or  ornamental  bottles,  and  a  miniature  keg  or 
so  of  porcelain  containing  the  finer  whiskys  and 
brandies.  The  bar-keeper  drew  beer  from  two  pumps 
immediately  in  front  of  him,  and  rinsed  glasses  in  some 
sort  of  a  sink  under  the  edge  of  the  bar.  The  center  of 
the  room  was  occupied  by  a  tremendous  stove  capable 
of  burning  whole  logs  of  cordwood.  A  stovepipe  led 
from  the  stove  here  and  there  in  wire  suspension  to  a 
final  exit  near  the  other  corner.  On  the  wall  were  two 
sporting  chromos,  and  a  good  variety  of  lithographed 
calendars  and  illuminated  tin  signs  advertising  beers 
and  spirits.  The  floor  was  liberally  sprinkled  with  damp 
sawdust,  and  was  occupied,  besides  the  stove,  by  a 
number  of  wooden  chairs  and  a  single  round  table. 

The  latter,  a  clumsy  heavy  affair  beyond  the  strength 
of  an  ordinary  man,  was  being  deftly  interposed  be- 
tween himself  and  the  attacks  of  the  possessor  of 
the  angry  voice  by  a  gigantic  young  riverman  in 
the  conventional  stagged  (i.e.,  chopped  off)  trousers, 
"  cork "  shoes,  and  broad  belt  typical  of  his  craft. 
In  the  aggressor  Thorpe  recognized  old  Jackson 
Hines. 

"  Damn  you ! "  cried  the  old  man,  qualifying  the 
oath,  "  let  me  get  at  you,  you  great  big  sock-stealer, 
I'll  make  you  hop  high!  I'll  snatch  you  bald-headed 
so  quick  that  you'll  think  you  never  had  anv  hair!  " 

"  Fll  settle  with  you  in  the  morning,  Jackson," 
laughed  the  riverman. 

"  You  want  to  eat  a  good  breakfast,  then,  because 
you  won't  have  no  appetite  for  dinner." 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  19* 

"The  men  roared,  with  encouraging  calls.  The  river- 
man  put  on  a  ludicrous  appearance  of  offended  dig- 
nity. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  swell  up  like  a  poisoned  pup!" 
cried  old  Jackson  plaintively,  ceasing  his  attacks  from 
sheer  weariness.  "  You  know  you're  as  safe  as  a  cow 
tied  to  a  brick  wall  behind  that  table." 

Thorpe  seized  the  opportunity  to  approach. 

"  Hello,  Jackson,"  said  he. 

The  old  man  peered  at  him  out  of  the  blur  of  hi* 
excitement. 

"  Don't  you  know  me?"  inquired  Thorpe. 

"  Them  lamps  gives  'bout  as  much  light  as  a  piece 
of  chalk,"  complained  Jackson  testily.  "  Knows  you? 
You  bet  I  do!  How  are  you,  Harry?  Where  you  been 
keepin'  yourself?  You  look  *bout  as  fat  as  a  stall-fed 
knittin'  needle." 

"  I've  been  landlooking  in  the  upper  peninsula," 
explained  Thorpe,  "  on  the  Ossawinamakee,  up  in  the 
Marquette  country." 

"Sho'l"  commented  Jackson  in  wonder,  "way  up 
there  where  the  moon  changes!  " 

"  It's  a  fine  country,"  went  on  Thorpe  so  everyone 
could  hear,  "  with  a  great  cutting  of  white  pine.  It 
runs  as  high  as  twelve  hundred  thousand  to  the  forty 
sometimes." 

"  Trees  clean  an*  free  of  limbs?  "  asked  Jackson. 

"  They're  as  good  as  the  stuff  over  on  seventeen; 
you  remember  that." 

"  Clean  as  a  baby's  leg,"  agreed  Jackson. 

"  Have  a  glass  of  beer?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Dry  as  a  tobacco  box,"  confessed  Hines. 

**  Have  something,  the  rest  of  you?  "  invited  Thorpe. 

So  they  all  drank. 

On  a  sudden  inspiration  Thorpe  resolved  to  ask  the 
old  man's  advice  as  to  crew  and  horses.  It  might  not 
be  good  for  much,  but  it  would  do  no  harm. 


192  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

Jackson  listened  attentively  to  the  other's  brief  re- 
citaL 

"  Why  don't  you  see  Tim  Shearer?  He  ain't  doin' 
nothin'  since  the  jam  came  down,"  was  his  comment. 

"  Isn't  he  with  the  M.  &  D.  people?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Nope.     Quit." 

*  How's  that?  " 

"  'Count  of  Morrison.  Morrison  he  comes  up  to  u  n 
things  some.  He  does.  Tim  he's  getting  the  drive  in 
shape,  and  he  don't  want  to  be  bothered,  but  old  Mor- 
rison he's  as  busy  as  hell  beatin'  tan-bark.  Finally  Tim, 
he  calls  him.  "  '  Look  here,  Mr.  Morrison/  says  he, 
"  I'm  runnin'  this  drive.  If  I  don't  get  her  there,  all 
right;  you  can  give  me  my  time.  'Till  then  you  ain't 
got  nothin'  to  say/ 

"  Well,  that  makes  the  Old  Fellow  as  sore  as  a 
scalded  pup.  He's  used  to  bossin'  clerks  and  such 
things,  and  don't  have  much  of  an  idea  of  lumber- 
jacks. He  has  big  ideas  of  respect,  so  he  '  calls '  Tim 
dignified  like. 

"  Tim  didn't  hit  him ;  but  I  guess  he  felt  like  th'  man 
who  met  the  bear  without  any  weapon,  —  even  a  news- 
paper would  V  come  handy.  He  hands  in  his  time 
t'  once  and  quits.  Sence  then  he's  been  as  mad  as  a 
bar-keep  with  a  lead  quarter,  which  ain't  usual  for 
Tim.  He's  been  filin'  his  teeth  for  M.  &  D.  right  along. 
Somethin's  behind  it  all,  I  reckon." 

"Where'll  I  find  him?"  asked  Thorpe. 

Jackson  gave  the  name  of  a  small  boarding-house. 
Shortly  after,  Thorpe  left  him  to  amuse  the  others  with 
bis  unique  conversation,  and  hunted  up  Shearer** 
stopping-place. 


Cnaptei    XXVHI 


rHE  boarding-house  proved  to  be  of  the  typical 
lumber-jack  class,  —  a  narrow  "  stoop,*'  a  hall- 
way and  stairs  in  the  center,  and  an  office  and 
bar  on  either  side.  Shearer  and  a  half  dozen  other  men 
about  his  own  age  sat,  their  chairs  on  two  legs  and  their 
M  cork  "  boots  on  the  rounds  of  the  chairs,  smoking 
olacidlv  in  the  tepid  eveniner  air.  The  light  came  from 
inside  the  building,  so  that  while  Thorpe,  was  in  plain 
view,  he  could  not  make  out  which  of  the  dark  figures 
on  the  piazza,  was  the  man  he  wanted.  He  approached, 
and  attempted  an  identifying  scrutiny.  The  men,  with 
the  taciturnity  of  their  class  in  the  presence  of  a 
stranger,  said  nothing. 

"  Well,  bub,"  finally  drawled  a  voice  from  the  corner, 
*'  blowed  that  stake  you  made  out  of  Radway,  yet?  " 

"That  you,  Shearer?"  inquired  Thorpe  advancing. 
"  You're  the  man  I'm  looking  for." 

"  You've  found  me,"  replied  the  old  man  dryly. 

Thorpe  was  requested  elaborately  to  "  shake  hands  ** 
with  the  owners  of  six  names.  Then  he  had  a  chance 
to  intimate  quietly  to  Shearer  that  he  wanted  a  word 
with  him  alone.  The  riverman  rose  silently  and  led 
the  way  up  the  straight,  uncarpeted  stairs,  along  a 
narrow,  uncarpeted  hall,  to  a  square,  uncarpeted  bed- 
room. The  walls  and  ceiling  of  this  apartment  were  of 
unpainted  planed  pine.  It  contained  a  cheap  bureau, 
one  chair,  and  a  bed  and  washstand  to  match  the 
bureau.  Shearer  lit  the  lamp  and  sat  on  the  bed. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  a  little  pine  up  in  the  northern  peninsula 

193 


194  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

within  walking  distance  of  Marquette,"  said  Thorpe, 
"  and  I  want  to  get  a  crew  of  about  twenty  men.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  you  might  be  willing  to  help 
me." 

The  riverman  frowned  steadily  at  his  interlocutor 
from  under  his  bushy  brows. 

"  How  much  pine  you  got?"  he  asked  finally. 

"  About  three  hundred  millions,"  replied  Thorpe 
quietly. 

The  old  man's  blue  eyes  fixed  themselves  with  un- 
wavering steadiness  on  Thorpe's  face. 

"You're  jobbing  some  of  it,  eh?"  he  submitted 
finally  as  the  only  probable  conclusion.  "  Do  you  think 
you  know  enough  about  it  ?  Who  does  it  belong  to  ?  " 

"  It  belongs  to  a  man  named  Carpenter  and  my- 
self." 

The  riverman  pondered  this  slowly  for  an  appre- 
ciable interval,  and  then  shot  out  another  question. 

"How'dyougetit?" 

Thorpe  told  him  simply,  omitting  nothing  except 
the  name  of  the  firm  up-river.  When  he  had  finished, 
Shearer  evinced  no  astonishment  nor  approval. 

"  You  done  well,"  he  commented  finally.  Then  after 
another  interval: 

"  Have  you  found  out  who  was  the  men  stealin'  the 
pine?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Thorpe  quietly,  "  it  was  Morrison 
&  Daly." 

The  old  man  flickered  not  an  eyelid.  He  slowly 
filled  his  pipe  and  lit  it. 

"  I'll  get  you  a  crew  of  men,"  said  he,  "  if  you'll 
take  me  as  foreman." 

"  But  it's  a  little  job  at  first,"  protested  Thorpe.  "  I 
only  want  a  camp  of  twenty.  It  wouldn't  be  worth 
your  while." 

"  That's  my  look-out.  I'll  take  th'  job,"  replied  the 
logger  grimly.  "  You  got  three  hundred  million  there, 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  195 

ain't  you?  And  you're  goin'  to  cut  it?  It  ain't  such  a 
small  job." 

Thorpe  could  hardly  believe  his  good-fortune  in 
having  gained  so  important  a  recruit.  With  a  practical 
man  as  foreman,  his  mind  would  be  relieved  of  a  great 
Jeal  of  worry  over  unfamiliar  detail.  He  saw  at  once 
that  he  would  himself  be  able  to  perform  all  the  duties 
of  sealer,  keep  in  touch  with  the  needs  of  the  camp, 
and  supervise  the  campaign.  Nevertheless  he  an- 
swered the  older  man's  glance  with  one  as  keen,  and 
said: 

"  Look  here,  Shearer,  if  you  take  this  job,  we  may  as 
well  understand  each  other  at  the  start.  This  is  going 
to  be  my  camp,  and  I'm  going  to  be  boss.  I  don't 
know  much  about  logging,  and  I  shall  want  you  to 
take  charge  of  all  that,  but  I  shall  want  to  know  just 
why  you  do  each  thing,  and  if  my  judgment  advises 
otherwise,  my  judgment  goes.  If  I  want  to  discharge 
a  man,  he  walks  without  any  question.  I  know  about 
what  I  shall  expect  of  each  man;  and  I  intend  to  get 
it  out  of  him.  And  in  questions  of  policy  mine  is  the 
say-so  every  trip.  Now  I  know  you're  a  good  man,  — 
one  of  the  best  there  is,  —  and  I  presume  I  shall  find 
your  judgment  the  best,  but  I  don't  want  any  mistakes 
to  start  with.  If  you  want  to  be  my  foreman  on  those 
terms,  just  say  so,  and  I'll  be  tickled  to  death  to  have 
you." 

For  the  first  time  the  lumberman's  face  lost,  during 
a  single  instant,  its  mask  of  immobility.  His  steel- 
blue  eyes  flashed,  his  mouth  twitched  with  some  strong 
emotion.  For  the  first  time,  too,  he  spoke  without 
his  contemplative  pause  of  preparation. 

"  That's  th'  way  to  talk!  "  he  cried.  "  Go  with  you? 
Well  I  should  rise  to  remark!  You're  the  boss;  and 
I  always  said  it.  I'll  get  you  a  gang  of  bully  boys 
that  will  roll  logs  till  there's  skating  in  hell! " 

Thorpe  left,  after  making  an  appointment  at  his  own 


196  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

hotel  for  the  following  day,  more  than  pleased  with 
his  luck.  Although  he  had  by  now  fairly  good  and 
practical  ideas  in  regard  to  the  logging  of  a  bunch  of 
pine,  he  felt  himself  to  be  very  deficient  in  the  details. 
In  fact,  he  anticipated  his  next  step  with  shaky  confi- 
dence. He  would  now  be  called  upon  to  buy  four 
or  five  teams  of  horses,  and  enough  feed  to  last  them 
the  entire  winter;  he  would  have  to  arrange  for  pro- 
visions in  abundance  and  variety  for  his  men;  he  would 
have  to  figure  on  blankets,  harness,  cook-camp  uten- 
sils, stoves,  blacksmith  tools,  iron,  axes,  chains,  cant- 
hooks,  van-goods,  pails,  lamps,  oil,  matches,  all  sorts 
of  hardware,  —  in  short,  all  the  thousand  and  one 
things,  from  needles  to  court-plaster,  of  which  a  self- 
sufficing  community  might  come  in  need.  And  he 
would  have  to  figure  out  his  requirements  for  the  en- 
tire winter.  After  navigation  closed,  he  could  import 
nothing  more. 

How  could  he  know  what  to  buy,  —  how  many  bar- 
rels of  flour,  how  much  coffee,  raisins,  baking  powder, 
soda,  pork,  beans,  dried  apples,  sugar,  nutmeg,  pepper, 
salt,  crackers,  molasses,  ginger,  lard,  tea,  corned  beef, 
catsup,  mustard,  —  to  last  twenty  men  five  or  six 
months?  How  could  he  be  expected  to  think  of  each 
item  of  a  list  of  two  hundred,  the  lack  of  which  meant 
measureless  bother,  and  the  desirability  of  which  sug- 
gested itself  only  when  the  necessity  arose?  It  is  easy, 
when  the  mind  is  occupied  with  multitudinous  detail, 
to  forget  simple  things,  like  brooms  or  iron  shovels. 
With  Tim  Shearer  to  help  his  inexperience,  he  felt 
easy.  He  knew  he  could  attend  to  advantageous  buy- 
ing, and  to  making  arrangements  with  the  steamship 
line  to  Marquette  for  the  landing  of  his  goods  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Ossawinamakee. 

Deep  in  these  thoughts,  he  wandered  on  at  random. 
He  suddenly  came  to  himself  in  the  toughest  quarter 
of  Bay  City. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  197 

Through  the  summer  night  shrilled  the  sound  of 
cachinations  painted  to  the  colors  ol  mirth.  A  cheap 
piano  rattled  and  thumped  through  an  open  window. 
Men's  and  women's  voices  mingled  in  rising  and  fall- 
ing gradations  of  harshness.  Lights  streamed  irregu- 
larly across  the  dark. 

Thorpe  became  aware  of  a  figure  crouched  in  the 
door-way  almost  at  his  feet.  The  sill  lay  in  shadow  so 
the  bulk  was  lost,  but  the  flickering  rays  of  a  distant 
street  lamp  threw  into  relief  the  high-lights  of  a  violin, 
and  a  head.  The  face  upturned  to  him  was  thin  and 
white  and  wolfish  under  a  broad  white  brow.  Dark 
eyes  gleamed  at  him  with  the  expression  of  a  fierce 
animal.  Across  the  forehead  ran  a  long  but  shallow 
cut  from  which  blood  dripped.  The  creature  clasped 
both  arms  around  a  violin.  He  crouched  there  and 
stared  up  at  Thorpe,  who  stared  down  at  him. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  the  latter  finally. 

The  creature  made  no  reply,  but  drew  his  arms 
closer  about  his  instrument,  and  blinked  his  wolf  eyes. 

Moved  by  some  strange,  half-tolerant  whim  of 
compassion,  Thorpe  made  a  sign  to  the  unknown  to 
rise. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  he,  "  and  I'll  have  your 
forehead  attended  to." 

The  wolf  eyes  gleamed  into  his  with  a  sudden  savage 
concentration.  Then  their  owner  obediently  arose. 

Thorpe  now  saw  that  the  body  before  him  was  of 
a  cripple,  short-legged,  hunch-backed,  long-armed, 
pigeon-breasted.  The  large  head  sat  strangely  top- 
heavy  between  even  the  broad  shoulders.  It  confirmed 
the  hopeless  but  sullen  despair  that  brooded  on  the 
white  countenance. 

At  the  hotel  Thorpe,  examining  the  cut,  found  it 
more  serious  in  appearance  than  in  reality.  With  a 
few  pieces  of  sticking  plaster  he  drew  its  edges  to- 
gether. 


198  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Then  he  attempted  to  interrogate  his  find. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked. 

"  Phil." 

"Phil  what?*' 

Silence. 

"  How  did  you  get  hurt?  * 

No  reply. 

"  Were  you  playing  your  fiddle  in  one  of  those 
houses?  " 

The  cripple  nodded  slowly. 

"  Are  you  hungry  ?  "  asked  Thorpe,  with  a  sudden 
thoughtfulness. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  cripple,  with  a  lightning  gleam  in 
his  wolf  eyes. 

Thorpe  rang  the  bell.  To  the  boy  who  answered  it 
he  said: 

"  Bring  me  half  a  dozen  beef  sandwiches  and  a  glass 
of  milk,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

"  Do  you  play  the  fiddle  much?  "  continued  Thorpe. 

The  cripple  nodded  again. 

"  Let's  hear  what  you  can  do." 

"  They  cut  my  strings!  "  cried  Phil  with  a  passionate 
wail. 

The  cry  came  from  the  heart,  and  Thorpe  was 
touched  by  it.  The  price  of  strings  was  evidently  a  big 
sum. 

"  I'll  get  you  more  in  the  morning,"  said  he. 
"  Would  you  like  to  leave  Bay  City?  " 

"  Yes !  "  cried  the  boy  with  passion. 

"  You  would  have  to  work.  You  would  have  to  be 
chore-boy  in  a  lumber  camp,  and  play  fiddle  for  the 
men  when  they  wanted  you  to." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  said  the  cripple. 

"Are  you  sure  you  could?  You  will  have  to  split 
all  the  wood  for  the  men,  the  cook,  and  the  office; 
you  will  haye  to  draw  the  water,  and  fill  the  lamps, 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  199 

and  keep  the  camps  clean.  You  will  be  paid  for  it, 
but  it  is  quite  a  job.  And  you  would  have  to  do  it 
well.  If  you  did  not  do  it  well,  I  would  discharge 
you." 

"  I  will  do  it ! "  repeated  the  cripple  with  a  shade 
more  earnestness, 

"  All  right,  then  I'll  take  you,"  replied  Thorpe. 

The  cripple  said  nothing,  nor  moved  a  muscle  of 
his  face,  but  the  gleam  of  the  wolf  faded  to  give  place 
to  the  soft,  affectionate  glow  seen  in  the  eyes  of  a  setter 
dog.  Thorpe  was  startled  at  the  change. 

A  knock  announced  the  sandwiches  and  milk.  The 
cripple  fell  upon  them  with  both  hands  in  a  sudden 
ecstacy  of  hunger.  When  he  had  finished,  he  looked 
again  at  Thorpe,  and  this  time  there  were  tears  in  his 
eyes. 

A  little  later  Thorpe  interviewed  the  proprietor  of 
the  hotel. 

"  I  wish  you'd  give  this  boy  a  good  cheap  room  and 
charge  his  keep  to  me,"  said  he.  "  He's  going  north 
with  me." 

Phil  was  led  away  by  the  irreverent  porter,  hugging 
tightly  his  unstrung  violin  to  his  bosom. 

Thorpe  lay  awake  for  some  time  after  retiring.  Phil 
claimed  a  share  of  his  thoughts. 

Thorpe's  winter  in  the  woods  had  impressed  upon 
him  that  a  good  cook  and  a  fiddler  will  do  more  to  keep 
men  contented  than  high  wages  and  easy  work.  So 
his  protection  of  the  cripple  was  not  entirely  disinter- 
ested. But  his  imagination  persisted  in  occupying 
itself  with  the  boy.  What  terrible  life  of  want  and 
vicious  associates  had  he  led  in  this  terrible  town? 
What  treatment  could  have  lit  that  wolf-gleam  in  his 
eyes?  What  hell  had  he  inhabited  that  he  was  so  eager 
to  get  away?  In  an  hour  or  so  he  dozed.  He  dreamed 
that  the  cripple  had  grown  to  enormous  proportions 


200  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

and  was  overshadowing  his  life.    A  slight  noise  outside 
his  bed-room  door  brought  him  to  his  feet. 

He  opened  the  door  and  found  that  in  the  stillness 
of  the  night  the  poor  deformed  creature  had  taken  the 
blankets  from  his  bed  and  had  spread  them  across  the 
door-sill  of  the  man  who  had  befriended  him. 


Chapter  XXIX 


^P"**HREE  weeks  later  the  steam  barge  Pole 

m       sailed  down  the  reach  of  Saginaw  Bay. 
M  Thorpe  had  received  letters  from  Carpenter 

advising-  him  of  a  credit  to  him  at  a  Marquette  bank, 
and  inclosing  a  draft  sufficient  for  current  expenses. 
Tim  Shearer  had  helped  make  out  the  list  of  neces- 
saries. In  time  everything  was  loaded,  the  gang- 
plank hauled  in,  and  the  little  band  of  Argonauts  set 
their  faces  toward  the  point  where  the  Big  Dipper 
swings. 

The  weather  was  beautiful.  Each  morning  the  sun 
rose  out  of  the  frosty  blue  lake  water,  and  set  in  a  sea 
of  deep  purple.  The  moon,  once  again  at  the  full, 
drew  broad  paths  across  the  pathless  waste.  From  the 
southeast  blew  daily  the  lake  trades,  to  die  at  sunset, 
and  then  to  return  in  the  soft  still  nights  from  the  wesu 
A  more  propitious  beginning  for  the  adventure  could 
not  be  imagined. 

The  ten  horses  in  the  hold  munched  their  hay  and 
oats  as  peaceably  as  though  a*  home  in  their  own 
stables.  Jackson  Hines  had  helped  select  them  from 
the  stock  of  firms  changing  locality  or  going  out  of 
business.  His  judgment  in  such  matters  was  infallible, 
but  he  had  resolutely  refused  to  take  the  position  of 
barn-boss  which  Thorpe  offered  him. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  she's  too  far  north.  I'm  gettin'  old, 
and  the  rheumatics  ain't  what  you  might  call  aban- 
donin'  of  me.  Up  there  it's  colder  than  hell  on  a 
stoker's  holiday." 

So  Shearer  had  picked  out  a  barn-boss  of  his  own. 

401 


202  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

This  man  was  important,  for  the  horses  are  the  main- 
stay of  logging  operations.  He  had  selected  also,  a 
blacksmith,  a  cook,  four  teamsters,  half  a  dozen  cant- 
hook  men,  and  as  many  handy  with  ax  or  saw. 

"  The  blacksmith  is  also  a  good  wood-butcher  (car- 
penter)," explained  Shearer.  "  Four  teams  is  all  we 
ought  to  keep  going  at  a  clip.  If  we  need  a  few  ax- 

fmeri,  we  can  pick  'em  up  at  Marquette.    I  think  this 

'gang'll  stick.     I  picked  'em." 

There  was  not  a  young  man  in  the  lot.  They  were 
most  of  them  in  the  prime  of  middle  life,  between 
thirty  and  forty,  rugged  in  appearance,  "  cocky  "  in 
manner,  with  the  swagger  and  the  oath  of  so  many 
buccaneers,  hard  as  nails.  Altogether  Thorpe  thought 
them  about  as  rough  a  set  of  customers  as  he  had  ever 
seen.  Throughout  the  day  they  played  cards  on  deck, 
and  spat  tobacco  juice  abroad,  and  swore  incessantly. 
Toward  himself  and  Shearer  their  manner  was  an  odd 
mixture  of  independent  equality  and  a  slight  deference. 
It  was  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You're  the  boss,  but  I'm  as 
good  a  man  as  you  any  day."  They  would  be  a  rough, 
turbulent,  unruly  mob  to  handle,  but  under  a  strong 
man  they  might  accomplish  wonders. 

Constituting  the  elite  of  the  profession,  as  it  were, 
—  whose  swagger  every  lad  new  to  the  woods  and 
river  tried  to  emulate,  to  whom  lesser  lights  looked 
up  as  heroes  and  models,  and  whose  lofty,  half-con- 
temptuous scorn  of  everything  and  everybody  outside 
their  circle  of  "  bully  boys  "  was  truly  the  aristocracy 
of  class,  —  Thorpe  might  have  wondered  at  their  con- 
senting to  work  for  an  obscure  little  camp  belonging 
to  a  greenhorn.  Loyalty  to  and  pride  in  the  firm  for 
which  he  works  is  a  strong  characteristic  of  the  lumber- 
jack. He  will  fight  at  the  drop  of  a  hat  on  behalf  of 
his  "  Old  Fellows  " ;  brag  loud  and  long  of  the  season's 
cut,  the  big  loads,  the  smart  methods  of  his  camps; 
and  even  after  he  has  been  discharged  for  some 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  203 

flagrant  debauch,  he  cherishes  no  rancor,  but  speaks 
with  soft  reminiscence  to  the  end  of  his  days  concern- 
ing "  that  winter  in  '81  when  the  Old  Fellows  put  in 
sixty  million  on  Flat  River." 

For  this  reason  he  feels  that  he  owes  it  to  his  repu- 
tation to  ally  himself  only  with  firms  of  creditable  size 
and  efficiency.  The  small  camps  are  for  the  young- 
sters. Occasionally  you  will  see  two  or  three  of  the 
veterans  in  such  a  camp,  but  it  is  generally  a  case  of 
lacking  something  better. 

The  trutn  is,  Shearer  had  managed  to  inspire  in  the 
minds  of  his  cronies  an  idea  that  they  were  about  to 
participate  in  a  fight.  He  re-told  Thorpe's  story 
artistically,  shading  the  yellows  and  the  reds.  He 
detailed  the  situation  as  it  existed.  The  men  agreed 
that  the  "  young  fellow  had  sand  enough  for  a  lake 
front."  After  that  there  needed  but  a  little  skillful 
maneuvering  to  inspire  them  with  the  idea  that  it  would 
be  a  great  thing  to  take  a  hand,  to  "  make  a  camp  '* 
in  spite  of  the  big  concern  up-river. 

Shearer  knew  that  this  attitude  was  tentative.  Every- 
thing depended  on  how  well  Thorpe  lived  up  to  his 
reputation  at  the  outset,  —  how  good  a  first  impression 
of  force  and  virility  he  would  manage  to  convey,  —  for 
the  first  impression  possessed  the  power  of  transmut- 
ing the  present  rather  ill-defined  enthusiasm  into 
loyalty  or  dissatisfaction.  But  Tim  himself  believed 
in  Thorpe  blindly.  So  he  had  no  fears. 

A  little  incident  at  the  beginning  of  the  voyage  did 
much  to  reassure  him.  It  was  on  the  old  question  oi 
whisky. 

Thorpe  had  given  orders  that  no  whisky  was  to  be 
brought  aboard,  as  he  intended  to  tolerate  no  high-sea 
orgies.  Soon  after  leaving  dock  he  saw  one  of  the 
teamsters  drinking  from  a  pint  flask.  Without  a  word 
he  stepped  briskly  forward,  snatched  the  bottle  from 
the  man's  lips,  and  threw  it  overboard.  Then  he  turned 


204  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

sharp  on  his  heel  and  walked  away,  without  troubling 
himself  as  to  how  the  fellow  was  going  to  take  it. 

Tke  occurrence  pleased  the  men,  for  it  showed  them 
they  had  made  no  mistake.  But  it  meant  little  else. 
The  chief  danger  really  was  lest  they  become  too  set- 
tled in  the  protective  attitude.  As  they  took  it,  they 
were  about,  good-naturedly,  to  help  along  a  worthy 
greenhorn.  This  they  considered  exceedingly  gener- 
ous on  their  part,  and  in  their  own  minds  they  were 
inclined  to  look  on  Thorpe  much  as  a  grown  man 
would  look  on  a  child.  There  needed  an  occasion  for 
him  to  prove  himself  bigger  than  they. 

Fine  weather  followed  them  up  the  long  blue  reach 
of  Lake  Huron ;  into  the  noble  breadth  of  the  Detour 
Passage,  past  the  opening  through  the  Thousand 
Islands  of  the  Georgian  Bay ;  into  the  St.  Mary's  River. 
They  were  locked  through  after  some  delay  on  account 
of  the  grain  barges  from  Duluth,  and  at  last  turned 
their  prow  westward  in  the  Big  Sea  Water,  beyond 
which  lay  Hiawatha's  Po-ne-mah,  the  Land  of  the 
Hereafter. 

Thorpe  was  about  late  that  night,  drinking  in  the 
mystic  beauty  of  the  scene.  Northern  lights,  pale  and 
dim,  stretched  their  arc  across  beneath  the  Dipper. 
The  air,  soft  as  the  dead  leaves  of  spring,  fanned  his 
cheek.  By  and  by  the  moon,  like  a  red  fire  at  sea, 
lifted  itself  from  the  waves.  Thorpe  made  his  way  to 
the  stern,  beyond  the  square  deck  house,  where  he 
intended  to  lean  on  the  rail  in  silent  contemplation  of 
the  moon-path. 

He  found  another  before  him.  Phil,  the  little 
cripple,  was  peering  into  the  wonderful  east,  its  light 
in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  look  at  Thorpe  when  the  latter 
approached,  but  seemed  aware  of  his  presence,  for  he 
moved  swiftly  to  give  room. 

"It  is  very  beautiful;  isn't  it,  Phil?"  said  Thorpe 
After  a  moment 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  205 

*  It  is  the  Heart  Song  of  the  Sea,"  replied  the  crippfe 
m  a  hushed  voice. 

Thorpe  looked  down  surprised. 

"Who  told  you  that?"  he  asked. 

But  the  cripple,  repeating  the  words  of  a  chance 
preacher,  could  explain  himself  no  farther.  In  a  dim 
way  the  ready-made  phrase  had  expressed  the  smoth- 
ered poetic  craving  of  his  heart,  —  the  belief  that  the 
sea,  the  sky,  the  woods,  the  men  and  women,  you,  I, 
all  have  our  Heart  Songs,  the  Song  which  is  most 
beautiful. 

"  The  Heart  Song  of  the  Sea,"  he  repeated  gropingly, 
*  I  don't  know  ...  I  play  it,"  and  he  made  the 
motion  of  drawing  a  bow  across  strings, "  very  still  and 
low."  And  this  was  all  Thorpe's  question  could  elicit 

Thorpe  fell  silent  in  the  spell  of  the  night,  and  pon- 
dered over  the  chances  of  life  which  had  cast  on  the 
shores  of  the  deep  as  driftwood  the  soul  of  a  poet. 

"  Your  Song,"  said  the  cripple  timidly,  "  some  day 
I  will  hear  it.  Not  yet.  That  night  in  Bay  City,  when 
you  took  me  in,  I  heard  it  very  dim.  But  I  cannot 
play  it  yet  on  my  violin." 

"  Has  your  violin  a  song  of  its  own?*'  queried  the 
man. 

"  I  cannot  hear  it.  It  tries  to  sing,  but  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  way.  I  cannot.  Some  day  I  will  hear  it 
and  play  it,  but  —  "  and  he  drew  nearer  Thorpe  and 
touched  his  arm  —  "  that  day  will  be  very  bad  for  me. 
I  lose  something."  His  eyes  of  the  wistful  dog  were 
big  and  wondering. 

"  Queer  little  Phil!  "  cried  Thorpe  laughing  whim- 
sically. "  Who  tells  you  these  things?  " 

"  Nobody,"  said  the  cripple  dreamily,  "  they  come 
when  it  is  like  to-night.  In  Bay  City  they  do  not 
come." 

At  this  moment  a  third  voice  broke  in  on  them. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Mr.  Thorpe,"  said  the  captain  of  the 


vessel.  **  Thought  it  was  some  of  them  lumber-jacks, 
and  I  was  going  to  fire  'em  below.  Fine  night." 

"  It  is  that,"  answered  Thorpe,  again  the  cold,  un- 
responsive man  of  reticence.  "  When  do  you  expect 
to  get  in,  Captain?" 

"  About  to-morrow  noon,"  replied  the  captain,  mov- 
ing away.  Thorpe  followed  him  a  short  distance,  dis- 
cussing the  landing.  The  cripple  stood  all  night,  his 
bright,  luminous  eyes  gazing  clear  and  unwinking  at 
the  moonlight,  listening  to  his  Heart  Song  of  the 


Chapter  XXX 


Tt   "TEXT  morning-  continued  the  traditions  of  its 

l\i  calm  predecessors.  Therefore  by  daybreak 
X  V  every  man  was  at  work.  The  hatches  were 
opened,  and  soon  between-decks  was  cumbered  with 
boxes,  packing  cases,  barrels,  and  crates.  In  their  im- 
provised stalls,  the  patient  horses  seemed  to  catch  a 
hint  of  shore-going  and  whinnied.  By  ten  o'clock  there 
loomed  against  the  strange  coast  line  of  the  Pictured 
Rocks,  a  shallow  bay  and  what  looked  to  be  a  dock 
distorted  by  the  northern  mirage. 

"  That's  her,"  said  the  captain. 

Two  hours  later  the  steamboat  swept  a  wide  curve, 
slid  between  the  yellow  waters  of  two  outlying  reefs, 
and,  with  slackened  speed,  moved  slowly  toward  the 
wharf  of  log  cribs  filled  with  stone. 

The  bay  or  the  dock  Thorpe  had  never  seen.  He 
took  them  on  the  captain's  say-so.  He  knew  very  well 
that  the  structure  had  been  erected  by  and  belonged  to 
Morrison  &  Daly,  but  the  young  man  had  had  the  fore- 
sight to  purchase  the  land  lying  on  the  deep  water  side 
of  the  bay.  He  therefore  anticipated  no  trouble  in 
unloading;  for  while  Morrison  &  Daly  owned  the  pier 
itself,  the  land  on  which  it  abutted  belonged  to  him. 

From  the  arms  of  the  bay  he  could  make  out  a  dozen 
figures  standing  near  the  end  of  the  wharf.  When, 
with  propeller  reversed,  the  Pole  Star  bore  slowly  down 
towards  her  moorings,  Thorpe  recognized  Dyer  at  the 
head  of  eight  or  ten  woodsmen.  The  sight  of  Radway's 
old  sealer  somehow  filled  him  with  a  quiet  but  danger- 

307 


208  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

ous  anger,  especially  since  that  official,  on  whom  rested 
a  portion  at  least  of  the  responsibility  of  the  jobber's 
failure,  was  now  found  in  the  employ  of  the  very  com- 
pany which  had  attempted  that  failure.  It  looked 
suspicious. 

"  Catch  this  line!  "  sung  out  the  mate,  hurling  the 
coil  of  a  handline  on  the  wharf. 

No  one  moved,  and  the  little  rope,  after  a  moment, 
slid  overboard  with  a  splash. 

The  captain,  with  a  curse,  signalled  full  speed  astern. 

"  Captain  Morse !  "  cried  Dyer,  stepping  forward. 
"  My  orders  are  that  you  are  to  land  here  nothing  but 
M.  &  D.  merchandise." 

"  I  have  a  right  to  land,"  answered  Thorpe,  "  The 
shore  belongs  to  me." 

"This  dock  doesn't,"  retorted  the  other  sharply, 
"  and  you  can't  set  foot  on  her." 

"  You  have  no  legal  status.  You  had  no  business 

building  in  the  first  place "  began  Thorpe,  and 

then  stopped  with  a  choke  of  anger  at  the  futility  of 
arguing  legality  in  such  a  case. 

The  men  had  gathered  interestedly  in  the  waist  of 
the  ship,  cool,  impartial,  severely  critical.  The  vessel, 
gathering  speed  astern,  but  not  yet  obeying  her  re- 
versed helm,  swung  her  bow  in  towards  the  dock. 
Thorpe  ran  swiftly  forward,  and  during  the  instant  of 
rubbing  contact,  leaped. 

He  alighted  squarely  upon  his  feet.  Without  an  in- 
stant's hesitation,  hot  with  angry  energy  at  finding  his 
enemy  within  reach  of  his  hand,  he  rushed  on  Dyer, 
and  with  one  full,  clean  in-blow  stretched  him  stunned 
on  the  dock.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause  of 
astonishment.  Then  the  woodsmen  closed  upon 
him. 

During  that  instant  Thorpe  had  become  possessed  of 
a  weapon.  It  came  hurling  through  the  air  from  above 
to  fall  at  his  feet  Shearer,  with  the  cool  calculation 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  209 

of  the  pioneer  whom  no  excitement  can  distract  from 
the  main  issue,  had  seen  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
follow  his  chief,  and  so  had  done  the  next  best  thing, 
• —  thrown  him  a  heavy  iron  belaying  pin. 

Thorpe  was  active,  alert,  and  strong.  The  men 
could  come  at  him  only  in  front.  As  offset,  he  could 
not  give  ground,  even  for  one  step.  Still,  in  the  hands 
of  a  powerful  man,  the  belaying  pin  is  by  no  means  a 
despicable  weapon.  Thorpe  hit  with  all  his  strength 
and  quickness.  He  was  conscious  once  of  being  on  the 
point  of  defeat.  Then  he  had  cleared  a  little  space 
for  himself.  Then  the  men  were  on  him  again  more 
savagely  than  ever.  One  fellow  even  succeeded  in  hit- 
ting him  a  glancing  blow  on  the  shoulder. 

Then  came  a  sudden  crash.  Thorpe  was  nearly 
thrown  from  his  feet.  The  next  instant  a  score  of  yell- 
ing men  leaped  behind  and  all  around  him.  There 
ensued  a  moment's  scuffle,  the  sound  of  dull  blows; 
and  the  dock  was  clear  of  all  but  Dyer  and  three  others 
who  were,  like  himself,  unconscious.  The  captain, 
yielding  to  the  excitement,  had  run  his  prow  plump 
against  the  wharf. 

Some  of  the  crew  received  the  mooring  lines.  AH 
was  ready  for  disembarkation. 

Bryan  Moloney,  a  strapping  Irish-American  of  the 
big-boned,  red-cheeked  type,  threw  some  water  over 
the  four  stunned  combatants.  Slowly  they  came  to 
life.  They  were  promptly  yanked  to  their  feet  by  the 
irate  rivermen,  who  commenced  at  once  to  bestow 
sundry  vigorous  kicks  and  shakings  by  way  of  punish- 
ment. Thorpe  interposed. 

"  Quit  it!  "  he  commanded.    "  Let  them  go!  " 

The  men  grumbled.  One  or  two  were  inclined  to 
be  openly  rebellious. 

"  If  I  hear  another  peep  out  of  you,"  said  Thorpe 
to  these  latter,  "  you  can  climb  right  aboard  and  take 
the  return  trip."  He  looked  them  in  the  eye  until  they 


210  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

muttered,  and  then  went  on :  "  Now,  we've  got  to  get 
unloaded  and  our  goods  ashore  before  those  fellows 
report  to  camp.  Get  right  moving,  and  hustle!  " 

If  the  men  expected  any  comment,  approval,  or 
familiarity  from  their  leader  on  account  of  their  little 
fracas,  they  were  disappointed.  This  was  a  good  thing. 
The  lumber-jack  demands  in  his  boss  a  certain  funda- 
mental unapproachability,  whatever  surface  bonlwmie 
he  may  evince. 

So  Dyer  and  his  men  picked  themselves  out  of  the 
trouble  sullenly  and  departed.  The  ex-sealer  had 
nothing  to  say  as  long  as  he  was  within  reach,  but 
when  he  had  gained  the  shore,  he  turned. 

"  You  won't  think  this  is  so  funny  when  you  get  in 
the  law-courts!  "  he  shouted. 

Thorpe  made  no  reply.  "  I  guess  we'll  keep  even," 
he  muttered. 

"  By  the  jumping  Moses/'  snarled  Scotty  Parsons 
turning  in  threat. 

"  Scotty !  "  said  Thorpe  sharply. 

Scotty  turned  back  to  his  task,  which  was  to  help 
the  blacksmith  put  together  the  wagon,  the  component 
parts  of  which  the  others  had  trundled  out. 

With  thirty  men  at  the  job  it  does  not  take  a  great 
while  to  move  a  small  cargo  thirty  or  forty  feet.  By 
three  o'clock  the  Pole  Star  was  ready  to  continue  her 
journey.  Thorpe  climbed  aboard,  leaving  Shearer  in 
charge. 

"  Keep  the  men  at  it,  Tim,"  said  he.  "  Put  up  the 
walls  of  the  warehouse  good  and  strong,  and  move  the 
stuff  in.  If  it  rains,  you  can  spread  the  tent  over  the 
roof,  and  camp  in  with  the  provisions.  If  you  get 
through  before  I  return,  you  might  take  a  scout  up 
the  river  and  fix  on  a  camp  site.  I'll  bring  back  the 
lumber  for  roofs,  floors,  and  trimmings  with  me,  and 
will  try  to  pick  up  a  few  axmen  for  swamping.  Above 
all  things,  have  a  good  man  or  so  always  in  charge. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  211 

Those  fellows  won't  bother  us  any  more  for  the  pres- 
ent, I  think ;  but  it  pays  to  be  on  deck.  So  long." 

In  Marquette,  Thorpe  arranged  for  the  cashing  of 
his  time  checks  and  orders;  bought  lumber  at  the  mills; 
talked  contract  with  old  Harvey,  the  mill-owner  and 
prospective  buyer  of  the  young  man's  cut ;  and  engaged 
four  axmen  whom  he  found  loafing  about,  waiting  for 
the  season  to  open. 

When  he  returned  to  the  bay  ic  found  the  warehouse 
complete  except  for  the  roofs  and  gables.  These,  with 
their  reinforcement  of  tar-paper,  were  nailed  on  in 
short  order.  Shearer  and  Andrews,  the  surveyor,  were 
scouting  up  the  river. 

"  No  trouble  from  above,  boys?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  Nary  trouble,"  they  replied. 

The  warehouse  was  secured  by  padlocks,  the  wagon 
loaded  with  the  tent  and  the  necessaries  of  life  and 
work.  Early  in  the  morning  the  little  procession  — 
laughing,  joking,  skylarking  with  the  high  spirits  of 
men  in  the  woods  —  took  its  way  up  the  river-trail. 
Late  that  evening,  tired,  but  still  inclined  to  mischief, 
they  came  to  the  first  dam,  where  Shearer  and  An- 
drews met  them. 

"How  do  you  like  it,  Tim?"  asked  Thorpe  that 
evening. 

"  She's  all  right,"  replied  the  riverman  with  em- 
phasis; which,  for  him,  was  putting  it  strong. 

At  noon  of  the  following  day  the  party  arrived  at 
the  second  dam.  Here  Shearer  had  decided  to  build 
the  permanent  camp.  Injin  Charley  was  constructing 
one  of  his  endless  series  of  birch-bark  canoes.  Later 
he  would  paddle  the  whole  string  to  Marquette,  where 
he  would  sell  them  to  a  hardware  dealer  for  two  dollars 
and  a  half  apiece. 

To  Thorpe,  who  had  walked  on  ahead  with  his  fore- 
man, it  seemed  that  he  had  never  been  away.  There 
was  the  knoll;  the  rude  camp  with  the  deer  hides;  the 


212  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

venison  hanging  suspended  from  the  pole;  the  endless 
broil  and  tumult  of  the  clear  north-country  stream;  the 
yellow  glow  over  the  hill  opposite.  Yet  he  had  gone 
a  nearly  penniless  adventurer;  he  returned  at  the  head 
of  an  enterprise. 

Injin  Charley  looked  up  and  grunted  as  Thorpe  ap- 
proached. 

"How  are  you,  Charley?"  greeted  Thorpe  reti- 
cently. 

"  You  gettum  pine?  Good!  "  replied  Charley  in  the 
same  tone. 

That  was  all;  for  strong  men  never  talk  freely  erf 
what  is  in  their  hearts.  There  is  no  need;  they  under- 
stand. 


Chapter  XXXI 


rWO  months  passed  away.  Winter  set  in.  The 
camp  was  built  and  inhabited.  Routine  had 
established  itself,  and  all  was  going  well. 

The  first  move  of  the  M.  &  D.  Company  had  been 
one  of  conciliation.  Thorpe  was  approached  by  the 
walking-boss  of  the  camps  up-river.  The  man  made 
no  reference  to  or  excuse  for  what  had  occurred,  nor 
did  he  pretend  to  any  hypocritical  friendship  for  the 
younger  firm.  His  proposition  was  entirely  one  of 
mutual  advantage.  The  Company  had  gone  to  consid- 
erable expense  in  constructing  the  pier  of  stone  cribs. 
It  would  be  impossible  for  the  steamer  to  land  at  any 
other  point.  Thorpe  had  undisputed  possession  of  the 
shore,  but  the  Company  could  as  indisputably  remove 
the  dock.  Let  it  stay  where  it  was.  Both  companies 
could  then  use  it  for  their  mutual  convenience. 

To  this  Thorpe  agreed.  Baker,  the  walking-boss, 
tried  to  get  him  to  sign  a  contract  to  that  effect. 
Thorpe  refused. 

"  Leave  your  dock  where  it  is  and  use  it  when  you 
want  to,"  said  he.  "  I'll  agree  not  to  interfere  as  long 
as  you  people  behave  yourselves." 

The  actual  logging  was  opening  up  well.  Both 
Shearer  and  Thorpe  agreed  that  it  would  not  do  to  be 
too  ambitious  the  first  year.  They  set  about  clearing 
their  banking  ground  about  a  half  mile  below  the  first 
dam;  and  during  the  six  weeks  before  snow-fall  cut 
three  short  roads  of  half  a  mile  each.  Approximately 
two  million  feet  would  be  put  in  from  these  roads  — 
which  could  be  extended  in  years  to  come  —  while 

aw 


214  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

another  million  could  be  travoyed  directly  to  the  land- 
ing from  its  immediate  vicinity. 

"  We  won't  skid  them,"  said  Tim.  "  We'll  haul  from 
the  stump  to  the  bank.  And  we'll  tackle  only  a  snow- 
road  proposition :  —  we  ain't  got  time  to  monkey  with 
buildin'  sprinklers  and  plows  this  year.  We'll  make 
a  little  stake  ahead,  and  then  next  year  we'll  do  it  right 
and  get  in  twenty  million.  That  railroad'll  get  along 
a  ways  by  then,  and  men'll  be  more  plenty." 

Through  the  lengthening  evenings  they  sat  crouched 
on  wooden  boxes  either  side  of  the  stove,  conversing 
rarely,  gazing  at  one  spot  with  a  steady  persistency 
which  was  only  an  outward  indication  of  the  persistency 
with  which  their  minds  held  to  the  work  in  hand.  Tim, 
the  older  at  the  business,  showed  this  trait  more 
strongly  than  Thorpe.  The  old  man  thought  of  noth- 
ing but  logging.  From  the  stump  to  the  bank,  from 
the  bank  to  the  camp,  from  the  camp  to  the  stump 
again,  his  restless  intelligence  travelled  tirelessly,  pick- 
ing up,  turning  over,  examining  the  littlest  details  with 
an  ever-fresh  curiosity  and  interest.  Nothing  was 
too  small  to  escape  this  deliberate  scrutiny.  Nothing 
was  in  so  perfect  a  state  that  it  did  not  bear  one  more 
inspection.  He  played  the  logging  as  a  chess  player 
his  game.  One  by  one  he  adopted  the  various  possi- 
bilities, remote  and  otherwise,  as  hypotheses,  and 
thought  out  to  the  uttermost  copper  rivet  what  would 
be  the  best  method  of  procedure  in  case  that  possibility 
should  confront  him. 

Occasionally  Thorpe  would  introduce  some  other 
topic  of  conversation.  The  old  man  would  listen  to  his 
remark  with  the  attention  of  courtesy;  would  allow  a 
decent  period  of  silence  to  intervene;  and  then,  revert- 
ing to  the  old  subject  without  comment  on  the  new, 
would  emit  one  of  his  terse  practical  suggestions,  result 
of  a  long  spell  of  figuring.  That  is  how  success  is 
made. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  215 

In  the  men's  camp  the  crew  lounged,  smoked, 
danced,  or  played  cards.  In  those  days  no  one  thought 
of  forbidding  gambling.  One  evening  Thorpe,  who 
had  been  too  busy  to  remember  Phil's  violin,  —  al- 
though he  noticed,  as  he  did  every  other  detail  of  the 
camp,  the  cripple's  industry,  and  the  precision  with 
which  he  performed  his  duties,  —  strolled  over  and 
looked  through  the  window.  A  dance  was  in  progress. 
The  men  were  waltzing,  whirling  solemnly  round  and 
round,  gripping  firmly  each  other's  loose  sleeves  just 
above  the  elbow.  At  every  third  step  of  the  waltz  they 
stamped  one  foot. 

Perched  on  a  cracker  box  sat  Phil.  His  head  was 
thrust  forward  almost  aggressively  over  his  instru- 
ment, and  his  eyes  glared  at  the  dancing  men  with  the 
old  wolf-like  gleam.  As  he  played,  he  drew  the  bow 
across  with  a  swift  jerk,  thrust  it  back  with  another, 
threw  his  shoulders  from  one  side  to  the  other  in 
abrupt  time  to  the  music.  And  the  music  1  Thorpe 
unconsciously  shuddered;  then  sighed  in  pity.  It  was 
atrocious.  It  was  not  even  in  tune.  Two  out  of  three 
of  the  notes  were  either  sharp  or  flat,  not  so  flagrantly 
as  to  produce  absolute  disharmony,  but  just  enough  to 
set  the  teeth  on  edge.  And  the  rendition  was  as  color- 
less as  that  of  a  poor  hand-organ. 

The  performer  seemed  to  grind  out  his  fearful  stuff 
with  a  fierce  delight,  in  which  appeared  little  of  the 
sesthetic  pleasure  of  the  artist.  Thorpe  was  at  a  loss 
to  define  it. 

"  Poor  Phil,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  He  has  the  musi- 
cal soul  without  even  the  musical  earl " 

Next  day,  while  passing  out  of  the  cook  camp  he 
Addressed  one  of  the  men: 

44  Well,  Billy,"  he  inquired,  "  how  do  you  like  your 
fiddler?" 

"  All  right!  "  replied  Billy  with  emphasis.  "  She's 
got  some  go  to  her." 


216  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

In  the  woods  the  work  proceeded  finely.  From  the 
travoy  sledges  and  the  short  roads  a  constant  stream 
of  logs  emptied  itself  on  the  bank.  There  long  parallel 
skidways  had  been  laid  the  whole  width  of  the  river 
valley.  Each  log  as  it  came  was  dragged  across  those 
monster  andirons  and  rolled  to  the  bank  of  the  river. 
The  cant-hook  men  dug  their  implements  into  the 
rough  bark,  leaned,  lifted,  or  clung  to  the  projecting 
stocks  until  slowly  the  log  moved,  rolling  with  gradu- 
ally increasing  momentum.  Then  they  attacked  it 
with  fury  lest  the  momentum  be  lost.  Whenever  it 
began  to  deviate  from  the  straight  rolling  necessary  to 
keep  it  on  the  center  of  the  skids,  one  of  the  workers 
thrust  the  shoe  of  his  cant-hook  under  one  end  of  the 
log.  That  end  promptly  stopped;  the  other,  still  roll- 
ing, soon  caught  up;  and  the  log  moved  on  evenly,  as 
was  fitting. 

At  the  end  of  the  rollway  the  log  collided  with  other 
logs  and  stopped  with  the  impact  of  one  bowling  ball 
against  another.  The  men  knew  that  being  caught 
between  the  two  meant  death  or  crippling  for  life. 
Nevertheless  they  escaped  from  the  narrowing  interval 
at  the  latest  possible  moment,  for  it  is  easier  to  keep  a 
log  rolling  than  to  start  it. 

Then  other  men  piled  them  by  means  of  long  steel 
chains  and  horses,  just  as  they  would  have  skidded  them 
in  the  woods.  Only  now  the  logs  mounted  up  and  up 
until  the  skidways  were  thirty  or  forty  feet  high. 
Eventually  the  pile  of  logs  would  fill  the  banking 
ground  utterly,  burying  the  landing  under  a  nearly 
continuous  carpet  of  timber  as  thick  as  a  two-story 
house  is  tall.  The  work  is  dangerous.  A  saw  log 
containing  six  hundred  board  feet  weighs  about  one 
ton.  This  is  the  weight  of  an  ordinary  iron  safe 
When  one  of  them  rolls  or  falls  from  even  a  moderate 
height,  its  force  is  irresistible.  But  when  twenty  or 
thirty  cascade  down  the  bold  front  of  a  skidway,  carry- 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  217 

ing  a  man  or  so  with  them,  the  affair  becomes  a  catas- 
trophe. 

Thorpe's  men,  however,  were  all  old-timers,  and 
nothing  of  the  sort  occurred.  At  first  it  made  him  catch 
his  breath  to  see  the  apparent  chances  they  took;  but 
after  a  little  he  perceived  that  seeming  luck  was  in 
reality  a  coolness  of  judgment  and  a  long  experience  in 
the  peculiar  ways  of  that  most  erratic  of  inanimate 
cussedness  —  the  pine  log.  The  banks  grew  daily. 
Everybody  was  safe  and  sound. 

The  young  lumberman  had  sense  enough  to  know 
that,  while  a  crew  such  as  his  is  supremely  effective,  it 
requires  careful  handling  to  keep  it  good-humored  and 
willing.  He  knew  every  man  by  his  first  name,  and  each 
day  made  it  a  point  to  talk  with  him  for  a  moment  or 
so.  The  subject  was  invariably  some  phase  of  the 
work.  Thorpe  never  permitted  himself  the  familiarity 
of  introducing  any  other  topic.  By  this  course  he  pre- 
served the  nice  balance  between  too  great  reserve, 
which  chills  the  lumber-jack's  rather  independent  en- 
thusiasm, and  the  too  great  familiarity,  which  loses  his 
respect.  He  never  replied  directly  to  an  objection  or 
a  request,  but  listened  to  it  non-committally;  and  later, 
without  explanation  or  reasoning,  acted  as  his  judg- 
ment dictated.  Even  Shearer,  with  whom  he  was  in 
most  intimate  contact,  respected  this  trait  in  him. 
Gradually  he  came  to  feel  that  he  was  making  a  way 
with  his  men.  It  was  a  status,  not  assured  as  yet  nor 
even  very  firm,  but  a  status  for  all  that. 

Then  one  day  one  of  the  best  men,  a  teamster,  came 
in  to  make  some  objection  to  the  cooking.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  cooking  was  perfectly  good.  It  generally 
is,  in  a  well-conducted  camp,  but  the  lumber-jack  is  a 
great  hand  to  growl,  and  he  usually  begins  with  his 
food. 

Thorpe  listened  to  his  vague  objections  in  silence. 

"  All  right,"  he  remarked  simply. 


2l8  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

Next  day  he  touched  the  man  on  the  shoulder  just 
as  he  was  starting  to  work. 

"  Step  into  the  office  and  get  your  time,"  said  he. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  I  don't  need  you  any  longer." 

The  two  entered  the  little  office.  Thorpe  looked 
through  the  ledger  and  van  book,  and  finally  handed 
the  man  his  slip. 

"  Where  do  I  get  this?  "  asked  the  teamster,  looking 
at  it  uncertainly. 

"  At  the  bank  in  Marquette,"  replied  Thorpe  with- 
out glancing  around. 

"  Have  I  got  to  go  'way  up  to  Marquette?  n 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

"  Who's  going  to  pay  my  fare  south?  " 

44  You  are.    You  can  get  work  at  Marquette." 

"  That  ain't  a  fair  shake,"  cried  the  man  excitedly. 

"  111  have  no  growlers  in  this  camp,"  said  Thorpe 
with  decision. 

"  By  God!  "  cried  the  man,  "  you  damned " 

"  You  get  out  of  here!  "  cried  Thorpe  with  a  con- 
centrated blaze  of  energetic  passion  that  made  the  fel- 
low step  back. 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  get  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  law 
by  foolin'  with  this  office,"  cried  the  other  at  the  door, 
"  but  if  I  had  you  outside  for  a  minute " 

"  Leave  this  office !  "  shouted  Thorpe. 

"  S'pose  you  make  me ! "  challenged  the  man  in- 
solently. 

In  a  moment  the  defiance  had  come,  endangering  the 
careful  structure  Thorpe  had  reared  with  such  pains. 
The  young  man  was  suddenly  angry  in  exactly  the 
same  blind,  unreasoning  manner  as  when  he  had 
Jeaped  single-handed  to  tackle  Dyer's  crew. 

Without  a  word  he  sprang  across  the  shack,  seized  a 
two-bladed  ax  from  the  pile  behind  the  door,  swung  it 
around  his  head  and  cast  it  full  at  the  now  frightened 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  219 

teamster.  The  latter  dodged,  and  the  swirling  steel 
buried  itself  in  the  snowbank  beyond.  Without  an  in- 
stant's hesitation  Thorpe  reached  back  for  another. 
The  man  took  to  his  heels. 

"I  don't  want  to  see  you  around  here  again!" 
shouted  Thorpe  after  him. 

Then  in  a  moment  he  returned  to  the  office  and  sat 
down  overcome  with  contrition. 

"  It  might  have  been  murder!  "  he  told  himself,  awe- 
stricken. 

But,  as  it  happened,  nothing  could  have  turned  out 
better. 

Thorpe  had  instinctively  seized  the  only  method  by 
which  these  strong  men  could  be  impressed.  A  rough- 
and-tumble  attempt  at  ejectment  would  have  been  use- 
less. Now  the  entire  crew  looked  with  vast  admiration 
on  their  boss  as  a  man  who  intended  to  have  his  own 
way  no  matter  what  difficulties  or  consequences  might 
tend  to  deter  him.  And  that  is  the  kind  of  man  they 
liked.  This  one  deed  was  more  effective  in  cementing 
their  loyalty  than  any  increase  of  wages  would  have 
been. 

Thorpe  knew  that  their  restless  spirits  would  soon 
tire  of  the  monotony  of  work  without  ultimate  interest. 
Ordinarily  the  hope  of  a  big  cut  is  sufficient  to  keep  men 
of  the  right  sort  working  for  a  record.  But  these  men 
had  no  such  hope  —  the  camp  was  too  small,  and  they 
were  too  few.  Thorpe  adopted  the  expedient,  now 
quite  common,  of  posting  the  results  of  each  day's 
work  in  the  men's  shanty. 

Three  teams  were  engaged  in  travoying,  and  two  in 
skidding  the  logs,  either  on  the  banking  ground,  or 
along  the  road.  Thorpe  divided  his  camp  into  four 
sections,  which  he  distinguished  by  the  names  of  the 
teamsters.  Roughly  speaking,  each  of  the  three  haul- 
ing teams  had  its  own  gang  of  sawyers  and  skidders  to 
supply  it  with  logs  and  to  take  them  from  it,  for  «' 


220  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

the  skidding  teams,  one  was  split;  —  the  horses  were 
big  enough  so  that  one  of  them  to  a  skidway  sufficed. 
Thus  three  gangs  of  men  were  performing  each  day 
practically  the  same  work.  Thorpe  scaled  the  results, 
and  placed  them  conspicuously  for  comparison. 

Red  Jacket,  the  teamster  of  the  sorrels,  one  day  was 
credited  with  11,000  feet;  while  Long  Pine  Jim  and 
Rollway  Charley  had  put  in  but  10,500  and  10,250  re- 
spectively.  That  evening  all  the  sawyers,  swampers, 
and  skidders  belonging  to  Red  Jacket's  outfit  were 
considerably  elated;  while  the  others  said  little  and 
prepared  for  business  on  the  morrow. 

Once  Long  Pine  Jim  lurked  at  the  bottom  for  three 
days.  Thorpe  happened  by  the  skidway  just  as  Long 
Pine  arrived  with  a  log.  The  young  fellow  glanced 
solicitously  at  the  splendid  buckskins,  the  best  horses 
in  camp. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  give  you  a  very  good  team, 
Jimmy,"  said  he,  and  passed  on. 

That  was  all ;  but  men  of  the  rival  gangs  had  heard. 
In  camp  Long  Pine  Jim  and  his  crew  received  chaffing 
with  balefully  red  glares.  Next  day  they  stood  at  the 
top  by  a  good  margin,  and  always  after  were  com- 
petitors to  be  feared. 

Injin  Charley,  silent  and  enigmatical  as  ever,  had 
constructed  a  log  shack  near  a  little  creek  over  in  the 
hardwood.  There  he  attended  diligently  to  the  busi- 
ness of  trapping.  Thorpe  had  brought  him  a  deer 
knife  from  Detroit;  a  beautiful  instrument  made  of  the 
best  tool  steel,  in  one  long  piece  extending  through 
the  buck-horn  handle.  One  could  even  break  bones 
with  it.  He  had  also  lent  the  Indian  the  assistance  ot 
two  of  his  Marquette  men  in  erecting  the  shanty;  and 
had  given  him  a  barrel  of  flour  for  the  winter.  From 
time  to  time  Injin  Charley  brought  in  fresh  meat,  for 
which  he  was  paid.  This  with  his  trapping,  and  his 
manufacture  of  moccasins,  snowshoes  and  birch  canoes, 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  221 

made  him  a  very  prosperous  Indian  indeed.  Thorpe 
rarely  found  time  to  visit  him,  but  he  often  glided  into 
the  office,  smoked  a  pipeful  of  the  white  man's  tobacco 
in  friendly  fashion  by  the  stove,  and  glided  out  again 
without  having  spoken  a  dozen  words. 

Wallace  made  one  visit  before  the  big  snows  came, 
and  was  charmed.  He  ate  with  gusto  of  the  "  salt- 
horse,"  baked  beans,  stewed  prunes,  mince  pie,  and 
cakes.  He  tramped  around  gaily  in  his  moccasins  or 
on  the  fancy  snowshoes  he  promptly  purchased  of  Injin 
Charley.  There  was  nothing  new  to  report  in  regard 
to  financial  matters.  The  loan  had  been  negotiated 
easily  on  the  basis  of  a  mortgage  guaranteed  by  Car- 
penter's personal  signature.  Nothing  had  been  heard 
from  Morrison  &  Daly. 

When  he  departed,  he  left  behind  him  four  little 
long-eared,  short-legged  beagle  hounds.  They  were 
solemn  animals,  who  took  life  seriously.  Never  a 
smile  appeared  in  their  questioning  eyes.  Wherever 
one  went,  the  others  followed,  pattering  gravely  along 
in  serried  ranks.  Soon  they  discovered  that  the  swamp 
over  the  knoll  contained  big  white  hares.  Their  mis- 
sion in  life  was  evident.  Thereafter  from  the  earliest 
peep  of  daylight  until  the  men  quit  work  at  night  they 
chased  rabbits.  The  quest  was  hopeless,  but  they  kept 
obstinately  at  it,  wallowing  with  contained  excite- 
ment over  a  hundred  paces  of  snow  before  they  would 
get  near  enough  to  scare  their  quarry  to  another  jump. 
It  used  to  amuse  the  hares.  All  day  long  the  mellow 
bell-tones  echoed  over  the  knoll.  It  came  in  time  to 
be  part  of  the  color  of  the  camp,  just  as  were  the  pines 
and  birches,  or  the  cold  northern  sky.  At  the  fall  of 
night,  exhausted,  trailing  their  long  ears  almost  to  the 
ground,  they  returned  to  the  cook,  who  fed  them  and 
made  much  of  them.  Next  morning  they  were  at  it  as 
hard  as  ever.  To  them  it  was  the  quest  for  the  Grail, 
—  hopeless,  but  glorious. 


222  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

Little  Phil,  entrusted  with  the  alarm  clock,  was  the 
first  up  in  the  morning.  In  the  fearful  biting  cold  of 
an  extinct  camp,  he  lighted  his  lantern  and  with  numb 
hands  raked  the  ashes  from  the  stove.  A  few  sticks  ol 
dried  pine  topped  by  split  wood  of  birch  or  maple,  all 
well  dashed  with  kerosene,  took  the  flame  eagerly. 
Then  he  awakened  the  cook,  and  stole  silently  into  the 
office,  where  Thorpe  and  Shearer  and  Andrews,  the 
surveyor,  lay  asleep.  There  quietly  he  built  another 
fire,  and  filled  the  water-pail  afresh.  By  the  time  this 
task  was  finished,  the  cook  sounded  many  times  a 
conch,  and  the  sleeping  camp  awoke. 

Later  Phil  drew  water  for  the  other  shanties,  swept 
out  all  three,  split  wood  and  carried  it  in  to  the  cook 
and  to  the  living-camps,  filled  and  trimmed  the  lamps, 
perhaps  helped  the  cook.  About  half  the  remainder 
of  the  day  he  wielded  an  ax,  saw  and  wedge  in  the 
hardwocd,  collecting  painfully  —  for  his  strength  was 
not  great  —  material  for  the  constant  fires  it  was  his 
duty  to  maintain.  Often  he  would  stand  motionless  in 
the  vast  frozen,  creaking  forest,  listening  with  awe  to 
the  voices  which  spoke  to  him  alone.  There  was  some- 
thing uncanny  in  the  misshapen  dwarf  with  the  fixed 
marble  white  face  and  the  expressive  changing  eyes,  — 
something  uncanny,  and  something  indefinably  beau- 
tiful. 

He  seemed  to  possess  an  instinct  which  warned  him 
of  the  approach  of  wild  animals.  Long  before  a  white 
man,  or  even  an  Indian,  would  have  suspected  the 
presence  of  game,  little  Phil  would  lift  his  head  with 
a  peculiar  listening  toss.  Soon,  stepping  daintily 
through  the  snow  near  the  swamp  edge,  would  come 
a  deer;  or  pat-apat-patting  on  his  broad  hairy  paws,  a 
lynx  would  steal  by.  Except  Injin  Charley,  Phil  was 
the  only  man  in  that  country  who  ever  saw  a  beaver 
in  the  open  daylight. 

At  camp  sometimes  when  all  the  men  were  away 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  223 

and  his  own  work  was  done,  he  would  crouch  like  a 
raccoon  in  the  far  corner  of  his  deep  square  bunk  with 
the  board  ends  that  made  of  it  a  sort  of  little  cabin, 
and  play  to  himself  softly  on  his  violin.  No  one  ever 
heard  him.  After  supper  he  was  docilely  ready  to  fid- 
dle to  the  men's  dancing.  Always  then  he  gradually 
worked  himself  to  a  certain  pitch  of  excitement.  His 
eyes  glared  with  the  wolf-gleam,  and  the  music  was 
vulgarly  atrocious  and  out  of  tune. 

As  Christmas  drew  near,  the  weather  increased  in 
severity.  Blinding  snow-squalls  swept  whirling  from 
the  northeast,  accompanied  by  a  high  wind.  The  air 
was  full  of  it,  —  fine,  dry,  powdery,  like  the  dust  of 
glass.  The  men  worked  covered  with  it  as  a  tree  is 
covered  after  a  sleet.  Sometimes  it  was  impossible 
to  work  at  all  for  hours  at  a  time ;  but  Thorpe  did  not 
allow  a  bad  morning  to  spoil  a  good  afternoon.  The 
instant  a  lull  fell  on  the  storm,  he  was  out  with  his 
scaling  rule,  and  he  expected  the  men  to  give  him 
something  to  scale.  He  grappled  the  fierce  winter  by 
the  throat,  and  shook  from  it  the  price  of  success. 

Then  came  a  succession  of  bright  cold  days  and  clear 
cold  nights.  The  aurora  gleamed  so  brilliantly  that 
the  forest  was  as  bright  as  by  moonlight.  In  the 
strange  weird  shadow  cast  by  its  waverings  the  wolves 
stole  silently,  or  broke  into  wild  ululations  as  they 
struck  the  trail  of  game.  Except  for  these  weird  in- 
vaders, the  silence  of  death  fell  on  the  wilderness. 
Deer  left  the  country.  Partridges  crouched  trailing 
under  the  snow.  All  the  weak  and  timid  creatures  of 
the  woods  shrank  into  concealment  and  silence  before 
these  fierce  woods-marauders  with  the  glaring  famine- 
struck  eyes. 

Injin  Charley  found  his  traps  robbed.  In  return  he 
constructed  deadfalls,  and  dried  several  scalps.  When 
spang  came,  he  would  send  them  out  for  the  bounty. 
In  the  night,  from  time  to  time,  the  horses  would 


224  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

awake  trembling  at  an  unknown  terror.  Then  the  long 
weird  howl  would  shiver  across  the  starlight  near  at 
hand,  and  the  chattering  man  who  rose  hastily  to  quiet 
the  horses'  frantic  kicking,  would  catch  a  glimpse  of 
gaunt  forms  skirting  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

And  the  little  beagles  were  disconsolate,  for  their 
quarry  had  fled.  In  place  of  the  fan-shaped  triangular 
trail  for  which  they  sought,  they  came  upon  dog-like 
prints.  These  they  sniffed  at  curiously,  and  then  de- 
parted growling,  the  hair  on  their  backbones  erect  and 
stiff. 


Chapter  XXXII 


Y  the  end  of  the  winter  some  four  million  :^< 
logs  were  piled  in  the  bed  or  upon  the  banks 
of  the  stream.  To  understand  what  that  means, 
you  must  imagine  a  pile  of  solid  timber  a  mile  in  length. 
This  tremendous  mass  lay  directly  in  the  course  of  the 
stream.  When  the  winter  broke  up,  it  had  to  be  sepa- 
rated and  floated  piecemeal  down  the  current.  The 
process  is  an  interesting  and  dangerous  one,  and  one 
of  great  delicacy.  It  requires  for  its  successful  com- 
pletion picked  men  of  skill,  and  demands  as  toll  its 
yearly  quota  of  cripples  and  dead.  While  on  the  drive, 
men  work  fourteen  hours  a  day,  up  to  their  waists  in 
water  filled  with  floating  ice. 

On  the  Ossawinamakee,  as  has  been  stated,  three 
dams  had  been  erected  to  simplify  the  process  of  driv- 
ing. When  the  logs  were  in  right  distribution,  the 
gates  were  raised,  and  the  proper  head  of  water  floated 
them  down. 

Now  the  river  being  navigable,  Thorpe  was  possessed 
or  certain  rights  on  it.  Technically  he  was  entitled  to 
*  normal  head  of  water,  whenever  he  needed  it;  or  a 
special  head,  according  to  agreement  with  the  parties 
owning  the  dam.  Early  in  the  drive,  he  found  that 
Morrison  &  Daly  intended  to  cause  him  trouble.  It 
began  in  a  narrows  of  the  river  between  high,  rocky 
banks.  Thorpe's  drive  was  floating  through  close- 
packed.  The  situation  was  ticklish.  Men  with  spiked 
boots  ran  here  and  there  from  one  bobbing  log  to 
another,  pushing  with  their  peaveys,  hurrying  one  log, 

225 


226  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

retarding  another,  working  like  beavers  to  keep  the 
whole  mass  straight.  The  entire  surface  of  the  water 
was  practically  covered  with  the  floating  timbers.  A 
moment's  reflection  will  show  the  importance  of  pre- 
serving a  full  head  of  water.  The  moment  the  stream 
should  drop  an  inch  or  so,  its  surface  would  contract, 
the  logs  would  then  be  drawn  close  together  in  the 
narrow  space;  and,  unless  an  immediate  rise  should  lift 
them  up  and  apart  from  each  other,  a  jam  would  form, 
behind  which  the  water,  rapidly  damming,  would  press 
to  entangle  it  the  more. 

This  is  exactly  what  happened.  In  a  moment,  as 
though  by  magic,  the  loose  wooden  carpet  ground 
together.  A  log  in  the  advance  up-ended ;  another 
thrust  under  it.  The  whole  mass  ground  together, 
stopped,  and  began  rapidly  to  pile  up.  The  men 
escaped  to  the  shore  in  a  marvellous  manner  of  their 
own. 

Tim  Shearer  found  that  the  gate  at  the  dam  above 
had  been  closed.  The  man  in  charge  had  simply 
obeyed  orders.  He  supposed  M.  &  D.  wished  to  back 
up  the  water  for  their  own  logs. 

Tim  indulged  in  some  picturesque  language. 

"  You  ain't  got  no  right  to  close  off  more'n  enough 
to  leave  us  th'  nat'ral  flow  unless  by  agreement,"  he 
concluded,  and  opened  the  gates. 

Then  it  was  a  question  of  breaking  the  jam.  This 
had  to  be  done  by  pulling  out  or  chopping  through 
certain  "  key "  logs  which  locked  the  whole  mass. 
Men  stood  under  the  face  of  imminent  ruin  —  over 
them  a  frowning  sheer  wall  of  bristling  logs,  behind 
which  pressed  the  weight  of  the  rising  waters  —  and 
hacked  and  tugged  calmly  until  the  mass  began  to 
stir.  Then  they  escaped.  A  moment  later,  with  a  roar, 
the  jam  vomited  down  on  the  spot  where  they  had 
stood.  It  wafe  dangerous  work.  Just  one  half  day  later 
it  had  to  be  done  again,  and  for  the  same  reason. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  227 

This  time  Thorpe  went  back  with  Shearer.  No  one 
was  at  the  dam,  but  the  gates  were  closed.  The  two 
opened  them  again. 

That  very  evening  a  man  rode  up  on  horseback  in- 
quiring for  Mr.  Thorpe. 

"  I'm  he,"  said  the  young  fellow. 

The  man  thereupon  dismounted  and  served  a  paper. 
It  proved  to  be  an  injunction  issued  by  Judge  Sherman 
enjoining  Thorpe  against  interfering  with  the  prop- 
erty of  Morrison  &  Daly,  —  to  wit,  certain  dams 
erected  at  designated  points  on  the  Ossawinamakee. 
There  had  not  elapsed  sufficient  time  since  the  com- 
mission of  the  offense  for  the  other  firm  to  secure  the 
issuance  of  this  interesting  document,  so  it  was  at 
once  evident  that  the  whole  affair  had  been  pre- 
arranged by  the  up-river  firm  for  the  purpose  of  block- 
ing off  Thorpe's  drive.  After  serving  the  injunction, 
the  official  rode  away. 

Thorpe  called  his  foreman.  The  latter  read  the  in- 
junction attentively  through  a  pair  of  steel-bowed 
spectacles. 

"  Well,  what  you  going  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  all  the  consummate  gall ! "  exploded  Thorpe. 
"  Trying  to  enjoin  me  from  touching  a  dam  when 
they're  refusing  me  the  natural  flow !  They  must  have 
bribed  that  fool  judge.  Why,  his  injunction  isn't 
worth  the  powder  to  blow  it  up! " 

"  Then  you're  all  right,  ain't  ye?  "  inquired  Tim. 

"  It'll  be  the  middle  of  summer  before  we  get  a 
hearing  in  court,"  said  he.  "  Oh,  they're  a  cute  lay- 
out! They  expect  to  hang  me  up  until  it's  too  late  to 
do  anything  with  the  season's  cut! " 

He  arose  and  began  to  pace  back  and  forth. 

"  Tim,"  said  he,  "  is  there  a  man  in  the  crew  who's 
afraid  of  nothing  and  will  obey  orders?  " 

"  A  dozen,"  replied  Tim  promptly. 

"Who's  the  best?" 


228  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"Scotty  Parsons." 

"  Ask  him  to  step  here." 

In  a  moment  the  man  entered  the  office. 

"  Scotty,"  said  Thorpe,  "  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  I  stand  responsible  for  whatever  I  order  you  to  do." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  replied  the  man. 

"  In  the  morning,"  said  Thorpe,  "  you  take  two  men 
and  build  some  sort  of  a  shack  right  over  the  sluice- 
gate of  that  second  dam,  —  nothing  very  fancy,  but 
good  enough  to  camp  in.  I  want  you  to  live  there 
day  and  night.  Never  leave  it,  not  even  for  a  minute. 
The  cookee  will  bring  you  grub.  Take  this  Winches- 
ter. If  any  of  the  men  from  up-river  try  to  go  out  on 
the  dam,  you  warn  them  off.  If  they  persist,  you  shoot 
near  them.  If  they  keep  coming,  you  shoot  at  them. 
Understand?" 

"  You  bet,"  answered  Scotty  with  enthusiasm. 

"  All  right,"  concluded  Thorpe. 

Next  day  Scotty  established  himself,  as  had  been 
agreed.  He  did  not  need  to  shoot  anybody.  Daly 
himself  came  down  to  investigate  the  state  of  affairs, 
when  his  men  reported  to  him  the  occupancy  of  the 
dam.  He  attempted  to  parley,  but  Scotty  would  have 
none  of  it. 

"  Get  out !  "  was  his  first  and  last  word. 

Daly  knew  men.  He  was  at  the  wrong  end  of  the 
whip.  Thorpe's  game  was  desperate,  but  so  was  his 
need,  and  this  was  a  backwoods  country  a  long  ways 
from  the  little  technicalities  of  the  law.  It  was  one 
thing  to  serve  an  injunction;  another  to  enforce  it. 
Thorpe  finished  his  drive  with  no  more  of  the  difficul- 
ties than  ordinarily  bother  a  riverman. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  river,  booms  of  logs  chained 
together  at  the  ends  had  been  prepared.  Into  the 
enclosure  the  drive  was  floated  and  stopped.  Then  a 
raft  was  formed  by  passing  new  manila  ropes  over  the 
logs,  tc  each  one  of  which  the  line  was  fastened  by 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  229 

a  hardwood  forked  pin  driven  astride  of  it.  A  tug 
dragged  the  raft  to  Marquette. 

Now  Thorpe  was  summoned  legally  on  two  counts. 
First,  Judge  Sherman  cited  him  for  contempt  of  court. 
Second,  Morrison  &  Daly  sued  him  for  alleged  dam- 
ages in  obstructing  their  drive  by  holding  open  the 
dam-sluice  beyond  the  legal  head  of  water. 

Such  is  a  brief  but  true  account  of  the  coup-de-force 
actually  carried  out  by  Thorpe's  lumbering  firm  in 
northern  Michigan.  It  is  better  known  to  the  craft 
than  to  the  public  at  large,  because  eventually  the  affair 
was  compromised.  The  manner  of  that  compromise  is 
to  follow. 


Chapter  XXXIII 


the  call  of  trial,  Thorpe  took  a  three 
weeks'  vacation  to  visit  his  sister.  Time,  filled 
with  excitement  and  responsibility,  had  erased 
from  his  mind  the  bitterness  of  their  parting.  He  had 
before  been  too  busy,  too  grimly  in  earnest,  to  allow 
himself  the  luxury  of  anticipation.  Now  he  found 
himself  so  impatient  that  he  could  hardly  wait  to  get 
there.  He  pictured  their  meeting,  the  things  they 
would  say  to  each  other. 

As  formerly,  he  learned  on  his  arrival  that  she  was 
not  at  home.  It  was  the  penalty  of  an  attempted  sur- 
prise. Mrs.  Renwick  proved  not  nearly  so  cordial  as 
the  year  before ;  but  Thorpe,  absorbed  in  his  eagerness, 
did  not  notice  it.  If  he  had,  he  might  have  guessed 
the  truth :  that  the  long  propinquity  of  the  fine  and  the 
commonplace,  however  safe  at  first  from  the  insulation 
of  breeding  and  natural  kindliness,  was  at  last  begin- 
ning to  generate  sparks. 

No,  Mrs.  Renwick  did  not  know  where  Helen  was: 
thought  she  had  gone  over  to  the  Hughes's.  The 
Hughes  live  two  blocks  down  the  street  and  three  to 
the  right,  in  a  brown  house  back  from  the  street. 
Very  well,  then;  she  would  expect  Mr.  Thorpe  to 
spend  the  night. 

The  latter  wandered  slowly  down  the  charming 
driveways  of  the  little  western  town.  The  broad  dusty 
street  was  brown  with  sprinkling  from  numberless 
garden  hose.  A  double  row  of  big  soft  maples  met 
over  it,  and  shaded  the  sidewalk  and  part  of  the  wide 
lawns.  The  grass  was  fresh  and  green.  Houses  with 
capacious  verandas  on  which  were  glimpsed  easy 

330 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  231 

chairs  and  hammocks,  sent  forth  a  mild  glow  from  a 
silk-shaded  lamp  or  two.  Across  the  evening  air 
floated  the  sounds  of  light  conversation  and  laughter 
from  these  verandas,  the  tinkle  of  a  banjo,  the  thrum 
of  a  guitar.  Automatic  sprinklers  whirled  and  hummed 
here  and  there.  Their  delicious  artificial  coolness 
struck  refreshingly  against  the  cheek. 

Thorpe  found  the  Hughes  residence  without  diffi- 
culty, and  turned  up  the  straight  walk  to  the  veranda. 
On  the  steps  of  the  latter  a  rug  had  been  spread. 
A  dozen  youths  and  maidens  lounged  in  well-bred  ease 
on  its  soft  surface.  The  gleam  of  white  summer 
dresses,  of  variegated  outing  clothes,  the  rustle  of 
frocks,  the  tinkle  of  low,  well-bred  laughter  confused 
Thorpe,  so  that,  as  he  approached  the  light  from  a  tall 
lamp  just  inside  the  hall,  he  hesitated,  vainly  trying  to 
make  out  the  figures  before  him. 

So  it  was  that  Helen  Thorpe  saw  him  first,  and  came 
fluttering  to  meet  him. 

"Oh,  Harry!  What  a  surprise!"  she  cried,  and 
flung  her  arms  about  his  neck  to  kiss  him. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Helen,"  he  replied  sedately. 

This  was  the  meeting  he  had  anticipated  so  long. 
The  presence  of  others  brought  out  in  him,  irresistibly, 
the  repression  of  public  display  which  was  so  strong 
an  element  of  his  character. 

A  little  chilled,  Helen  turned  to  introduce  him  to  her 
friends.  In  the  cold  light  of  her  commonplace  recep- 
tion she  noticed  what  in  a  warmer  effusion  of  feelings 
she  would  never  have  seen,  —  that  her  brother's  clothes 
were  out  of  date  and  worn;  and  that,  though  his  car- 
riage was  notably  strong  and  graceful,  the  trifling 
constraint  and  dignity  of  his  younger  days  had  become 
almost  an  awkwardness  after  two  years  among  uncul- 
tivated men.  It  occurred  to  Helen  to  be  just  a  little 
ashamed  of  him. 

He  took  a  place  on  the  steps  and  sat  without  saying 


232  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

a  word  all  the  evening.  There  was  nothing  for  him 
to  say.  These  young  people  talked  thoughtlessly,  as 
young  people  do,  of  the  affairs  belonging  to  their  own 
little  circle.  Thorpe  knew  nothing  of  the  cotillion,  or 
the  brake  ride,  or  of  the  girl  who  visited  Alice  Souther- 
land;  all  of  which  gave  occasion  for  so  much  lively 
comment.  Nor  was  the  situation  improved  when  some 
of  them,  in  a  noble  effort  at  politeness,  turned  the  con- 
versation into  more  general  channels.  The  topics  of 
the  day's  light  talk  were  absolutely  unknown  to  him. 
The  plays,  the  new  books,  the  latest  popular  songs, 
jokes  depending  for  their  point  on  an  intimate  knowl- 
edge of  the  prevailing  vaudeville  mode,  were  as  un- 
familiar to  him  as  Miss  Alice  Southerland's  guest.  He 
had  thought  pine  and  forest  and  the  trail  so  long,  that 
he  found  these  square-elbowed  subjects  refusing  to  be 
jostled  aside  by  any  trivialities. 

So  he  sat  there  silent  in  the  semi-darkness.  This 
man,  whose  lightest  experience  would  have  aroused  the 
eager  attention  of  the  entire  party,  held  his  peace 
because  he  thought  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

He  took  Helen  back  to  Mrs.  Renwick's  about  ten 
o'clock.  They  walked  slowly  beneath  the  broad- 
leaved  maples,  whose  shadows  danced  under  the  tall 
electric  lights,  —  and  talked. 

Helen  was  an  affectionate,  warm-hearted  girl.  Or- 
dinarily she  would  have  been  blind  to  everything 
except  the  delight  of  having  her  brother  once  more 
with  her.  But  his  apparently  cold  reception  had  first 
chilled,  then  thrown  her  violently  into  a  critical  mood. 
His  subsequent  social  inadequacy  had  settled  her  into 
the  common-sense  level  of  everyday  life. 

"  How  have  you  done,  Harry  ?  "  she  inquired  anx- 
iously. "  Your  letters  have  been  so  vague." 

"  Pretty  well,"  he  replied.  "  If  things  go  right,  I 
hope  some  day  to  have  a  better  place  for  you  than 
this." 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  233 

ef  heart  contracted  suddenly.  It  was  all  she  could 
do  to  keep  from  bursting  into  tears.  One  would  have 
to  realize  perfectly  her  youth,  the  life  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed,  the  lack  of  encouragement  she  had 
labored  under,  the  distastefulness  of  her  surroundings, 
the  pent-up  dogged  patience  she  had  displayed  during 
the  last  two  years,  the  hopeless  feeling  of  battering 
against  a  brick  wall  she  always  experienced  when  she 
received  the  replies  to  her  attempts  on  Harry's  confi- 
dence, to  appreciate  how  the  indefiniteness  of  his 
answer  exasperated  her  and  filled  her  with  sullen  de- 
spair. She  said  nothing  for  twenty  steps.  Then : 

"Harry,"  she  said  quietly,  "  can't  you  take  me  away 
from  Mrs.  Ren  wick's  this  year?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Helen.  I  can't  tell  yet.  Not  just 
now,  at  any  rate." 

"  Harry,"  she  cried,  "  you  don't  know  what  you're 
doing.  I  tell  you  I  can't  stand  Mrs.  Ren  wick  any 
longer."  She  calmed  herself  with  an  effort,  and  went 
on  more  quietly.  "  Really,  Harry,  she's  awfully  dis- 
agreeable. If  you  can't  afford  to  keep  me  anywhere 
else  — "  she  glanced  timidly  at  his  face  and  for  the 
first  time  saw  the  strong  lines  about  the  jaw  and  the 
tiny  furrows  between  the  eyebrows.  "  I  know  you've 
worked  hard,  Harry  dear,"  she  said  with  a  sudden  sym- 
pathy, "  and  that  you'd  give  me  more,  if  you  could. 
But  so  have  I  worked  hard.  Now  we  ought  to  change 
this  in  some  way.  I  can  get  a  position  as  teacher,  or 
some  other  work  somewhere.  Won't  you  let  me  do 
that?" 

Thorpe  was  thinking  that  it  would  be  easy  enough 
to  obtain  Wallace  Carpenter's  consent  to  his  taking 
a  thousand  dollars  from  the  profits  of  the  year.  But 
he  knew  also  that  the  struggle  in  the  courts  might  need 
every  cent  the  new  company  could  spare.  It  would 
look  much  better  were  he  to  wait  until  after  the  ver- 
dict. If  favorable,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  about 


234  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

sparing  the  money.  If  adverse,  there  would  be  no 
money  to  spare.  The  latter  contingency  he  did  not 
seriously  anticipate,  but  still  it  had  to  be  considered. 
And  so,  until  the  thing  was  absolutely  certain,  he  hesi- 
tated to  explain  the  situation  to  Helen  for  fear  of  dis- 
appointing her! 

"I  think  you'd  better  wait,  Helen,"  said  he. 
"  There'll  be  time  enough  for  all  that  later  when  it  be- 
comes necessary.  You  are  very  young  yet,  and  it  will 
not  hurt  you  a  bit  to  continue  your  education  for  a  lit- 
tle while  longer." 

"  And  in  the  meantime  stay  with  Mrs.  Renwick  ?  " 
flashed  Helen. 

'  Yes.     I  hope  it  will  not  have  to  be  for  very  long." 

'  How  long  do  you  think,  Harry  ?  "  pleaded  the 
girl. 

'  That  depends  on  circumstances,"  replied  Thorpe. 

'  Oh !  "  she  cried  indignantly. 

'  Harry,"  she  ventured  after  a  time,  "  why  not  write 
to  Uncle  Amos  ?  " 

Thorpe  stopped  and  looked  at  her  searchingly. 

"  You  can't  mean  that,  Helen,"  he  said,  drawing  a 
long  breath. 

"  But  why  not  ?  "  she  persisted. 

"  You  ought  to  know." 

"  Who  would  have  done  any  different?  If  you  had 
a  brother  and  discovered  that  he  had  —  appropriated 
—  most  all  the  money  of  a  concern  of  which  you  were 
president,  wouldn't  you  think  it  your  duty  to  have  him 
arrested  ?  " 

"  No !  "  cried  Thorpe  suddenly  excited.  "  Never  1 
If  he  was  my  brother,  I'd  help  him,  even  if  he'd  com- 
mitted murder !  " 

"  We  differ  there,"  replied  the  girl  coldly.  "  I  con- 
sider that  Uncle  Amos  was  a  strong  man  who  did  his 
duty  as  he  saw  it,  in  spite  of  his  feelings.  That  he  had 
father  arrested  is  nothing  against  him  in  my  eyes. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  235 

And  his  wanting  us  to  come  to  him  since,  seems  to 
ine  very  generous.  I  am  going  to  write  to  him." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  commanded 
Thorpe  sternly.  "  Amos  Thorpe  is  an  unscrupulous 
man  who  became  unscrupulously  rich.  He  deliber- 
ately used  our  father  as  a  tool,  and  then  destroyed  him. 
I  consider  that  anyone  of  our  family  who  would  have 
anything  to  do  with  him  is  a  traitor ! " 

The  girl  did  not  reply. 

Next  morning  Thorpe  felt  uneasily  repentant  for  his 
strong  language.  After  all,  the  girl  did  lead  a  monot- 
onous life,  and  he  could  not  blame  her  for  rebelling 
against  it  from  time  to  time.  Her  remarks  had  been 
born  of  the  rebellion ;  they  had  meant  nothing  in  them- 
selves. He  could  not  doubt  for  a  moment  her  loyalty 
to  the  family. 

But  he  did  not  tell  her  so.  That  is  not  the  way  of 
men  of  his  stamp.  Rather  he  cast  about  to  see  what 
he  could  do. 

Injin  Charley  had,  during  the  winter  just  past,  occu- 
pied odd  moments  in  embroidering  with  beads  and 
porcupine  quills  a  wonderful  outfit  of  soft  buckskin 
gauntlets,  a  shirt  of  the  same  material,  and  moccasins 
of  moose-hide.  They  were  beautifully  worked,  and 
Thorpe,  on  receiving  them,  had  at  once  conceived  the 
idea  of  giving  them  to  his  sister.  To  this  end  he  had 
consulted  another  Indian  near  Marquette,  to  whom  he 
had  confided  the  task  of  reducing  the  gloves  and  moc- 
casins. The  shirt  would  do  as  it  was,  for  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  worn  as  a  sort  of  belted  blouse.  As  has 
been  said,  all  were  thickly  beaded,  and  represented  a 
vast  quantity  of  work.  Probably  fifty  dollars  could 
not  have  bought  them,  even  in  the  north  country. 

Thorpe  tendered  this  as  a  peace  offering.  Not 
understanding  women  in  the  least,  he  was  surprised  to 
see  his  gift  received  by  a  burst  of  tears  and  a  sudden 
€xit  from  the  room.  Helen  thought  he  had  bought 


236  THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

the  things;  and  she  was  still  sore  from  the  pinch  of 
the  poverty  she  had  touched  the  evening  before. 
Nothing  will  exasperate  a  woman  more  than  to  be  pre- 
sented with  something  expensive  for  which  she  does 
not  particularly  care,  after  being  denied,  on  the 
ground  of  economy,  something  she  wants  very  much. 

Thorpe  stared  after  her  in  hurt  astonishment.  Mrs. 
Renwick  sniffed. 

That  afternoon  the  latter  estimable  lady  attempted 
to  reprove  Miss  Helen,  and  was  snubbed;  she  per- 
sisted, and  an  open  quarrel  ensued. 

"  I  will  not  be  dictated  to  by  you,  Mrs.  Renwick," 
said  Helen,  "  and  I  don't  intend  to  have  you  interfere 
in  any  way  with  my  family  affairs." 

"  They  won't  stand  much  investigation,"  replied 
Mrs.  Renwick,  goaded  out  of  her  placidity. 

Thorpe  entered  to  hear  the  last  two  speeches.  He 
said  nothing,  but  that  night  he  wrote  to  Wallace  Car- 
penter for  a  thousand  dollars.  Every  stroke  of  the 
pen  hurt  him.  But  of  course  Helen  could  not  stay 
here  now. 

"  And  to  think,  just  to  think  that  he  let  that  woman 
insult  me  so,  and  didn't  say  a  word !  "  cried  Helen  to 
herself. 

Her  method  would  have  been  to  have  acted  irrevo- 
cably on  the  spot,  and  sought  ways  and  means  after- 
wards. Thorpe's,  however,  was  to  perfect  all  his  plans 
before  making  the  first  step. 

Wallace  Carpenter  was  not  in  town.  Before  the 
letter  had  followed  him  to  his  new  address,  and  the 
answer  had  returned,  a  week  had  passed.  Of  course 
the  money  was  gladly  put  at  Thorpe's  disposal.  The 
latter  at  once  interviewed  his  sister. 

"  Helen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  made  arrangements  for 
some  money.  What  would  you  like  to  do  this  year?  M 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him  with  clear 
bright  gaze.  If  he  could  so  easily  raise  the  money, 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  237 

why  had  he  not  done  so  before?  He  knew  how  much 
she  wanted  it.  Her  happiness  did  not  count.  Only 
when  his  quixotic  ideas  of  family  honor  were  attacked 
did  he  bestir  himself. 

"  I  am  going  to  Uncle  Amos's,"  she  replied  distinctly. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Thorpe  incredulously. 

For  answer  she  pointed  to  a  letter  lying  open  on  the 
table.  Thorpe  took  it  and  read : 

"  My  dear  Niece : 

"  Both  Mrs.  Thorpe  and  myself  more  than  rejoice 
that  time  and  reflection  have  removed  that,  I  must 
confess,  natural  prejudice  which  the  unfortunate  fam- 
ily affair,  to  which  I  will  not  allude,  raised  in  your 
mind  against  us.  As  we  said  long  ago,  our  home  is 
your's  when  you  may  wish  to  make  it  so.  You  state 
your  present  readiness  to  come  immediately.  Unless 
you  wire  to  the  contrary,  we  shall  expect  you  next 
Tuesday  evening  on  the  four:forty  train.  I  shall  be 
at  the  Central  Station  myself  to  meet  you.  If  your 
brother  is  now  with  you,  I  should  be  pleased  to  see 
him  also,  and  will  be  most  happy  to  give  him  a  posi- 
tion with  the  firm. 

"  Aff .  your  uncle, 

"AMOS  THORPE. 

"  New  York,  June  6,  1883." 

On  finishing  the  last  paragraph  the  reader  crumpled 
the  letter  and  threw  it  into  the  grate. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did  that,  Helen,"  said  he,  "  but  I 
don't  blame  you,  and  it  can't  be  helped.  We  won't 
need  to  take  advantage  of  his  '  kind  offer  '  now." 

"  I  intend  to  do  so,  however,"  replied  the  girl  coldly. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean,"  she  cried,  "  that  I  am  sick  of  waiting  on 
your  good  pleasure.  I  waited,  and  slaved,  and  stood 
unbearable  things  for  two  years.  I  did  it  cheerfully. 


238 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 


And  in  return  I  don't  get  a  civil  word,  not  a  decent 
-explanation,  not  even  a  —  caress,"  she  fairly  sobbed 
•out  the  last  word.  "  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer. 
J  have  tried  and  tried  and  tried,  and  then  when  I've 
come  to  you  for  the  littlest  word  of  encouragement, 
you  have  pecked  at  me  with  those  stingy  little  kisses, 
and  have  told  me  I  was  young  and  ought  to  finish  my 
education !  You  put  me  in  uncongenial  surround- 
ings, and  go  off  into  the  woods  camping  yourself. 
You  refuse  me  money  enough  to  live  in  a  three-dollar 
boarding-house,  and  you  buy  expensive  rifles  and  fish- 
ing tackle  for  yourself.  You  can't  afford  to  send  me 
away  somewhere  for  the  summer,  but  you  bring  me 
back  gee-gaws  you  have  happened  to  fancy,  worth  a 
month's  board  in  the  country.  You  haven't  a  cent 
when  it  is  a  question  of  what  /  want ;  but  you  raise 
money  quick  enough  when  your  old  family  is  insulted. 
Isn't  it  my  family  too  ?  And  then  you  blame  me  be- 
cause, after  waiting  in  vain  two  years  for  you  to  do 
something,  I  start  out  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  myself. 
I'm  not  of  age  ;  but  you're  not  my  guardian  !  " 

During  this  long  speech  Thorpe  had  stood  motion- 
less, growing  paler  and  p^aler.  Like  most  noble  nat- 
ures, when  absolutely  in  the  right,  he  was  incapable 
of  defending  himself  against  misunderstandings.  He 
Avas  too  wounded ;  he  was  hurt  to  the  soul. 

"  You  know  that  is  not  true,  Helen,"  he  replied,  al- 
most sternly. 

"  It  is  true !  "  she  asseverated,  "  and  I'm  through!  " 

M  It's  a  little  hard,"  said  Thorpe  passing  his  hand 
wearily  before  his  eyes,  "  to  work  hard  this  way  for 
years,  and  then " 

She  laughed  with  a  hard  little  note  of  scorn. 

"  Helen,"  said  Thorpe  with  new  energy,  "  I  forbid 
you  to  have  anything  to  do  with  Amos  Thorpe.  I 
think  he  is  a  scoundrel  and  a  sneak." 

"  What  grounds  have  you  to  think  so  ?  " 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  239 

"  None,"  he  confessed,  "  that  is,  nothing  definite. 
But  I  know  men ;  and  I  know  his  type.  Some  day  I 
shall  be  able  to  prove  something.  I  do  not  wish  you 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  him." 

"  I  shall  do  as  I  please,"  she  replied,  crossing  her 
hands  behind  her. 

Thorpe's  eyes  darkened. 

"  We  have  talked  this  over  a  great  many  times,"  he 
warned,  "and  you've  always  agreed  with  me.  Re- 
member, you  owe  something  to  the  family." 

"  Most  of  the  family  seem  to  owe  something,"  she 
replied  with  a  flippant  laugh.  "  I'm  sure  I  didn't 
choose  the  family.  If  I  had,  I'd  have  picked  out  a 
better  one ! " 

The  flippancy  was  only  a  weapon  which  she  used 
unconsciously,  blindly,  in  her  struggle.  The  man 
could  not  know  this.  His  face  hardened,  and  his 
voice  grew  cold. 

"  You  may  take  your  choice,  Helen,"  he  said  for- 
mally. "  If  you  go  into  the  household  of  Amos 
Thorpe,  if  you  deliberately  prefer  your  comfort  to  your 
honor,  we  will  have  nothing  more  in  common." 

They  faced  each  other  with  the  cool,  deadly  glance 
of  the  race,  so  similar  in  appearance  but  so  unlike  in 
nature. 

"  I,  too,  offer  you  a  home,  such  as  it  is,"  repeated 
the  man.  "  Choose !  " 

At  the  mention  of  the  home  for  which  means  were 
so  quickly  forthcoming  when  Thorpe,  not  she,  consid- 
ered it  needful,  the  girl's  eyes  flashed.  She  stooped 
and  dragged  violently  from  beneath  the  bed  a  flat 
steamer  trunk,  the  lid  of  which  she  threw  open.  A 
dress  lay  on  the  bed.  With  a  fine  dramatic  gesture 
she  folded  the  garment  and  laid  it  in  the  bottom  of  the 
trunk.  Then  she  knelt,  and  without  vouchsafing  an- 
other glance  at  her  brother  standing  rigid  by  the  door, 
she  began  feverishly  to  arrange  the  folds. 

The  choice  was  made.    He  turned  and  went  out. 


Chapter  XXXIV 


TT  W'T'ttH  Thorpe  there  could  be  no  half-way 
i/i/  measure.  He  saw  that  the  rupture  with  his 
r  r  sister  was  final,  and  the  thrust  attained  him 

in  one  of  his  few  unprotected  points.  It  was  not  as 
though  he  felt  either  himself  or  his  sister  consciously  in 
the  wrong.  He  acquitted  her  of  all  fault,  except  as  to 
the  deadly  one  of  misreading  and  misunderstanding. 
The  fact  argued  not  a  perversion  but  a  lack  in  her  char- 
acter. She  was  other  than  he  had  thought  her. 

As  for  himself,  he  had  schemed,  worked,  lived  only 
fur  her.  He  had  come  to  her  from  the  battle  expect- 
ing rest  and  refreshment.  To  the  world  he  had  shown 
the  hard,  unyielding  front  of  the  unemotional ;  he  had 
looked  ever  keenly  outward ;  he  had  braced  his  muscles 
in  the  constant  tension  of  endeavor.  So  much  the 
more  reason  why,  in  the  hearts  of  the  few  he  loved,  he, 
the  man  of  action,  should  find  repose ;  the  man  of 
sternness,  should  discover  that  absolute  peace  of  the 
spirit  in  which  not  the  slightest  motion  of  the  will 
is  necessary;  the  man  of  repression  should  be  per- 
mitted affectionate,  care-free  expansion  of  the  natural 
affection,  of  the  full  sympathy  which  will  understand 
and  not  mistake  for  weakness.  Instead  of  this,  he 
was  forced  into  refusing  where  he  would  rather  have 
given ;  into  denying  where  he  would  rather  have  as- 
sented ;  and  finally  into  commanding  where  he  longed 
most  ardently  to  lay  aside  the  cloak  of  authority.  His 
motives  were  misread;  his  intentions  misjudged;  his 
love  doubted. 

But  worst  of  all,  Thorpe's  mind  could  see  no  possi- 
MO 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  241 

bility  of  an  explanation.  If  she  could  not  see  of  her 
own  accord  how  much  he  loved  her,  surely  it  was  a 
hopeless  task  to  attempt  an  explanation  through  mere 
words.  If,  after  all,  she  was  capable  of  misconceiving 
the  entire  set  of  his  motives  during  the  past  two  years, 
expostulation  would  be  futile.  In  his  thoughts  of  her 
he  fell  into  a  great  spiritual  dumbness.  Never,  even 
in  his  moments  of  most  theoretical  imaginings,  did 
he  see  himself  setting  before  her  fully  and  calmly  the 
hopes  and  ambitions  of  which  she  had  been  the  main- 
spring. And  before  a  reconciliation,  many  such  re- 
hearsals must  take  place  in  the  secret  recesses  of  a 
man's  being. 

Thorpe  did  not  cry  out,  nor  confide  in  a  friend,  nor 
do  anything  even  so  mild  as  pacing  the  floor.  The 
only  outward  and  visible  sign  a  close  observer  might 
have  noted  was  a  certain  dumb  pain  lurking  in  the 
depths  of  his  eyes  like  those  of  a  wounded  spaniel. 
He  was  hurt,  but  did  not  understand.  He  suffered  in 
silence,  but  without  anger.  This  is  at  once  the  noblest 
and  the  most  pathetic  of  human  suffering. 

At  first  the  spring  of  his  life  seemed  broken.  He 
did  not  care  for  money ;  and  at  present  disappointment 
bad  numbed  his  interest  in  the  game.  It  seemed 
hardly  worth  the  candle. 

Then  in  a  few  days,  after  his  thoughts  had  ceased  to 
dwell  constantly  on  the  one  subject,  he  began  to  look 
about  him  mentally.  Beneath  his  other  interests  he 
still  felt  constantly  a  dull  ache,  something  unpleasant, 
uncomfortable.  Strangely  enough  it  was  almost  iden- 
tical in  quality  with  the  uneasiness  that  always  under- 
lay his  surface-thoughts  when  he  was  worried  about 
some  detail  of  his  business.  Unconsciously,  —  again 
as  in  his  business,  —  the  combative  instinct  aroused. 
In  lack  of  other  object  on  which  to  expend  itself, 
Thorpe's  fighting  spirit  turned  with  energy  to  the 
subject  of  the  lawsuit. 


242  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Under  the  unwonted  stress  of  the  psychological  con- 
dition just  described,  he  thought  at  white  heat.  His 
ideas  were  clear,  and  followed  each  other  quickly, 
almost  feverishly. 

After  his  sister  left  the  Renwicks,  Thorpe  himself 
went  to  Detroit,  where  he  interviewed  at  once  Nor- 
throp, the  brilliant  young  lawyer  whom  the  firm  had 
engaged  to  defend  its  case. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  have  no  show,"  he  replied  to 
Thorpe's  question.  "  You  see,  you  fellows  were  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  fence  in  trying  to  enforce  the 
law  yourselves.  Of  course  you  may  well  say  that 
justice  was  all  on  your  side.  That  does  not  count. 
The  only  recourse  recognized  for  injustice  lies  in  the 
law  courts.  I'm  afraid  you  are  due  to  lose  your  case." 

"  Well,"  said  Thorpe,  "  they  can't  prove  much 
damage." 

"  I  don't  expect  that  they  will  be  able  to  procure  a 
very  heavy  judgment,"  replied  Northrop.  "  The  facts 
I  shall  be  able  to  adduce  will  cut  down  damages.  But 
the  costs  will  be  very  heavy." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Thorpe. 

"  And,"  then  pursued  Northrop  with  a  dry  smile, 
"  they  practically  own  Sherman.  You  may  be  in  for 
contempt  of  court  —  at  their  instigation.  As  I  under- 
stand it,  they  are  trying  rather  to  injure  you  than  to 
get  anything  out  of  it  themselves." 

'''  That's  it,"  nodded  Thorpe. 

"  In  other  words,  it's  a  case  for  compromise." 

"  Just  what  I  wanted  to  get  at,"  said  Thorpe  with 
satisfaction.  "  Now  answer  me  a  question.  Suppose 
a  man  injures  Government  or  State  land  by  trespass. 
The  land  is  afterwards  bought  by  another  party.  Has 
the  latter  any  claim  for  damage  against  the  trespasser  ? 
Understand  me,  the  purchaser  bought  after  the  tres- 
pass was  committed." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Northrop  without  hesitation. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  243 

"  Provided  suit  is  brought  within  six  years  of  the  time 
the  trespass  was  committed." 

"  Good !  Now  see  here.  These  M.  &  D.  people 
stole  about  a  section  of  Government  pine  up  on  that 
river,  and  I  don't  believe  they've  ever  bought  in  the 
land  it  stood  on.  In  fact  I  don't  believe  they  suspect 
that  anyone  knows  they've  been  stealing.  How  would 
it  do,  if  I  were  to  buy  that  section  at  the  Land  Office, 
and  threaten  to  sue  them  for  the  value  of  the  pine  that 
originally  stood  on  it  ?  " 

The  lawyer's  eyes  glimmered  behind  the  lenses  of 
his  pince-nez ;  but,  with  the  caution  of  the  professional 
man  he  made  no  other  sign  of  satisfaction. 

"  It  would  do  very  well  indeed,"  he  replied,  "  but 
you'd  have  to  prove  they  did  the  cutting,  and  you'll 
have  to  pay  experts  to  estimate  the  probable  amount 
of  the  timber.  Have  you  the  description  of  the  sec- 
tion?" 

"  No,"  responded  Thorpe,  "  but  I  can  get  it ;  and  I 
can  pick  up  witnesses  from  the  woodsmen  as  to  the 
cutting." 

"  The  more  the  better.  It  is  rather  easy  to  discredit 
the  testimony  of  one  or  two.  How  much,  on  a  broad 
guess,  would  you  estimate  the  timber  to  come  to  ?  " 

"  There  ought  to  be  about  eight  or  ten  million," 
guessed  Thorpe  after  an  instant's  silence,  "  worth  in 
the  stump  anywhere  from  sixteen  to  twenty  thousand 
dollars.  It  would  cost  me  only  eight  hundred  to 
buy  it." 

"  Do  so,  by  all  means.  Get  your  documents  and 
evidence  all  in  shape,  and  let  me  have  them.  I'll  set 
that  the  suit  is  discontinued  then.  Will  you  sue 
them?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  I'll  just  hold 
it  back  as  a  sort  of  club  to  keep  them  in  line." 

The  next  day,  he  took  the  train  north.  He  had 
something  definite  and  urgent  to  do,  and,  as  always 


244  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

with  practical  affairs  demanding  attention  and  re- 
source, he  threw  himself  whole-souled  into  the  accom- 
plishment of  it.  By  the  time  he  had  bought  the  six- 
teen forties  constituting  the  section,  searched  out  a 
dozen  witnesses  to  the  theft,  and  spent  a  week  with  the 
Marquette  expert  in  looking  over  the  ground,  he  had 
fallen  into  the  swing  of  work  again.  His  experience 
still  ached ;  but  dully. 

Only  now  he  possessed  no  interests  outside  of  those 
in  the  new  country ;  no  affections  save  the  half-protect- 
ing? good-natured  comradeship  with  Wallace,  the 
mutual  self-reliant  respect  that  subsisted  between  Tim 
Shearer  and  himself,  and  the  dumb,  unreasoning  dog- 
liking  he  shared  with  Injin  Charley.  His  eye  became 
clearer  and  steadier ;  his  methods  more  simple  and  di- 
rect. The  taciturnity  of  his  mood  redoubled  in  thick- 
ness. He  was  less  charitable  to  failure  on  the  part 
of  subordinates.  And  the  new  firm  on  the  Ossawin- 
amakee  prospered. 


Chapter  XXXV 


f    iIVE  years  passed. 

rj  In  that  time  Thorpe  had  succeeded  in  cutting 
m  a  hundred  million  feet  of  pine.  The  money  re- 
ceived for  this  had  all  been  turned  back  into  the  Com- 
pany's funds.  From  a  single  camp  of  twenty-five  men. 
with  ten  horses  and  a  short  haul  of  half  a  mile,  th 
concern  had  increased  to  six  large,  well-equipped  com- 
munities of  eighty  to  a  hundred  men  apiece,  using 
nearly  two  hundred  horses,  and  hauling  as  far  as  eight 
or  nine  miles. 

Near  the  port  stood  a  mammoth  sawmill  capable 
of  taking  care  of  twenty-two  million  feet  a  year,  about 
which  a  lumber  town  had  sprung  up.  Lake  schooners 
lay  in  a  long  row  during  the  summer  months,  while 
busy  loaders  passed  the  planks  from  one  to  the  other 
into  the  deep  holds.  Besides  its  original  holding,  the 
company  had  acquired  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  mill- 
ion more,  back  near  the  headwaters  of  tributaries  to 
the  Ossawinamakee.  In  the  spring  and  early  summer 
months,  the  drive  was  a  wonderful  affair. 

During  the  four  years  in  which  the  Morrison  &  Daly 
Company  shared  the  stream  with  Thorpe,  the  two 
firms  lived  in  complete  amity  and  understanding. 
Northrop  had  played  his  cards  skillfully.  The  older 
capitalists  had  withdrawn  suit.  Afterwards  they  kept 
scrupulously  within  their  rights,  and  saw  to  it  that  no 
more  careless  openings  were  left  for  Thorpe's  shrewd- 
ness. They  were  keen  enough  business  men,  but  had 
made  the  mistake,  common  enough  to  established 
power,  of  underrating  the  strength  of  an  appar- 

•45 


246  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

ently  insignificant  opponent.  Once  they  understood 
Thorpe's  capacity,  that  young  man  had  no  more 
chance  to  catch  them  napping. 

And  as  the  younger  man,  on  his  side,  never  attempt- 
ed to  overstep  his  own  rights,  the  interests  of  the  rival 
firms  rarely  clashed.  As  to  the  few  disputes  that  dicj 
arise,  Thorpe  found  Mr.  Daly  singularly  anxious  to 
please.  In  the  desire  was  no  friendliness,  however. 
Thorpe  was  watchful  for  treachery,  and  could  hardly 
believe  the  affair  finished  when  at  the  end  of  the  fourth 
year  the  M.  &  D.  sold  out  the  remainder  of  its  pine  to 
a  firm  from  Manistee,  and  transferred  its  operations 
to  another  stream  a  few  miles  east,  where  it  had  ac- 
quired more  considerable  holdings. 

"  They're  altogether  too  confounded  anxious  to  help 
us  on  that  freight,  Wallace,"  said  Thorpe  wrinkling 
his  brow  uneasily.  "  I  don't  like  it.  It  isn't  natural. 

"  No,"  laughed  Wallace,  "  neither  is  it  natural  for 
a  dog  to  draw  a  sledge.  But  he  does  it  —  when  he  has 
to.  They're  afraid  of  you,  Harry :  that's  all." 

Thorpe  shook  his  head,  but  had  to  acknowledge 
that  he  could  evidence  no  grounds  for  his  mistrust. 

The  conversation  took  place  at  Camp  One,  which 
was  celebrated  in  three  states.  Thorpe  had  set  out 
to  gather  around  him  a  band  of  good  woodsmen.  Ex- 
cept on  a  pinch  he  would  employ  no  others. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  get  in  only  two  thousand  feet  this 
winter,  and  if  a  boy  does  that,"  he  answered  Shearer's 
expostulations,  "  it's  got  to  be  a  good  boy." 

The  result  of  his  policy  began  to  show  even  in  the 
second  year.  Men  were  a  little  proud  to  say  that  they 
had  put  in  a  winter  at  "  Thorpe's  One."  Those  who 
had  worked  there  during  the  first  year  were  loyally  en- 
thusiastic over  their  boss's  grit  and  resourcefulness, 
their  camp's  order,  their  cook's  good  "  grub."  As  they 
were  authorities,  others  perforce  had  to  accept  the  dic- 
tum. There  grew  a  desire  among  the  better  class  to 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  247 

see  what  Thorpe's  "  One  "  might  be  like.  In  th< 
autumn  Harry  had  more  applicants  than  he  knew  what 
to  do  with.  Eighteen  of  the  old  men  returned.  He 
took  them  all,  but  when  it  came  to  distribution,  three 
found  themselves  assigned  to  one  or  the  other  of  the 
new  camps.  And  quietly  the  rumor  gained  that  these 
three  had  shown  the  least  willing  spirit  during  the 
previous  winter.  The  other  fifteen  were  sobered  to 
the  industry  which  their  importance  as  veterans  might 
have  impaired. 

Tim  Shearer  was  foreman  of  Camp  One;  Scotty 
Parsons  was  drafted  from  the  veterans  to  take  charge 
of  Two;  Thorpe  engaged  two  men  known  to  Tim  to 
boss  Three  and  Four.  But  in  selecting  the  "  push  "  for 
Five  he  displayed  most  strikingly  his  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  a  man's  relation  to  his  environment.  He 
sought  out  John  Radway  and  induced  him  to  accept 
the  commission. 

"  You  can  do  it,  John/'  said  he,  "  and  I  know  it.  I 
want  you  to  try;  and  if  you  don't  make  her  go,  I'll  call 
it  nobody's  fault  but  my  own." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  dare  risk  it,  after  that  Cass 
Branch  deal,  MT.  Thorpe,"  replied  Radway,  almost 
brokenly.  "  But  I  would  like  to  tackle  it,  I'm  dead 
sick  of  loafing.  Sometimes  it  seems  like  I'd  die,  if  I 
don't  get  out  in  the  woods  again." 

"  We'll  call  it  a  deal,  then,"  answered  Thorpe. 

The  result  proved  his  sagacity.  Radway  was  one 
of  the  best  foremen  in  the  outfit.  He  got  more  out 
of  his  men,  he  rose  better  to  emergencies,  and  he  ac- 
complished more  with  the  same  resources  than  any 
of  the  others,  excepting  Tim  Shearer.  As  long  as  the 
work  was  done  for  someone  else,  he  was  capable  and 
efficient.  Only  when  he  was  called  upon  to  demand 
on  his  own  account,  did  the  paralyzing  shyness  affect 
him. 

But  the  one  feature  that  did  more  to  attract  the  very 


248  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

best  element  among  woodsmen,  and  so  make  possible 
the  practice  of  Thorpe's  theory  of  success,  was  Camp 
One.  The  men's  accommodations  at  the  other  five 
were  no  different  and  but  little  better  than  those  in  a 
thousand  other  typical  lumber  camps  of  both  penin- 
sulas. They  slept  in  box-like  bunks  filled  with  hay  or 
straw  over  which  blankets  were  spread ;  they  sat  on  a 
narrow  hard  bench  or  on  the  floor ;  they  read  by  the 
dim  light  of  a  lamp  fastened  against  the  big  cross 
beam ;  they  warmed  themselves  at  a  huge  iron  stove 
in  the  center  of  the  room  around  which  suspended 
wires  and  poles  offered  space  for  the  drying  of  socks ; 
they  washed  their  clothes  when  the  mood  struck  them. 
It  was  warm  and  comparatively  clean.  But  it  was 
dark,  without  ornament,  cheerless. 

The  lumber-jack  never  expects  anything  different 
In  fact,  if  he  were  pampered  to  the  extent  of  ordinary 
comforts,  he  would  be  apt  at  once  to  conclude  himself 
indispensable  ;  whereupon  he  would  become  worthless. 

Thorpe,  however,  spent  a  little  money  —  not  much 
—  and  transformed  Camp  One.  Every  bunk  was  pro- 
vided with  a  tick,  which  the  men  could  fill  with  hay, 
balsam,  or  hemlock,  as  suited  them.  Cheap  but  at- 
tractive curtains  on  wires  at  once  brightened  the  room 
and  shut  each  man's  "  bedroom  "  from  the  main  hall. 
The  deacon  seat  remained,  but  was  supplemented  by 
a  half-dozen  simple  and  comfortable  chairs.  In  the 
center  of  the  room  stood  a  big  round  table  over  which 
glowed  two  hanging  lamps.  The  table  was  littered 
with  papers  and  magazines.  Home  life  was  still 
further  suggested  by  a  canary  bird  in  a  gilt  cage,  a 
sleepy  cat,  and  two  pots  of  red  geraniums.  Thorpe 
had  further  imported  a  washerwoman  who  dwelt  in  a 
separate  little  cabin  under  the  hill.  She  washed  the 
men's  belongings  at  twenty-five  cents  a  week,  which 
amount  Thorpe  deducted  from  each  man's  wages, 
whether  he  had  the  washing  done  or  not.  This  en- 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  249 

couraged  cleanliness.  Phil  scrubbed  out  every  day, 
while  the  men  were  in  the  woods. 

Such  was  Thorpe's  famous  Camp  One  in  the  days 
of  its  splendor.  Old  woodsmen  will  still  tell  you  about 
it,  with  a  longing  reminiscent  glimmer  in  the  corners 
of  their  eyes  as  they  recall  its  glories  and  the  men  who 
worked  in  it.  To  have  "  put  in  "  a  winter  in  Camp 
One  was  the  mark  of  a  master;  and  the  ambition  of 
every  raw  recruit  to  the  forest.  Probably  Thorpe's 
name  is  remembered  to-day  more  on  account  of  the 
intrepid,  skillful,  loyal  men  his  strange  genius  gath- 
ered about  it,  than  for  the  herculean  feat  of  having 
carved  a  great  fortune  from  the  wilderness  in  but  five 
years'  time. 

But  Camp  One  was  a  privilege.  A  man  entered  it 
only  after  having  proved  himself;  he  remained  in  it 
only  as  long  as  his  efficiency  deserved  the  honor.  Its 
members  were  invariably  recruited  from  one  of  the 
other  four  camps ;  never  from  applicants  who  had  not 
been  in  Thorpe's  employ.  A  raw  man  was  sent  to 
Scotty,  or  Jack  Hyland,  or  Radway,  or  Kerlie.  There 
he  was  given  a  job,  if  he  happened  to  suit,  and  men 
were  needed.  By  and  by,  perhaps,  when  a  member 
of  Camp  One  fell  sick  or  was  given  his  time,  Tim 
Shearer  would  send  word  to  one  of  the  other  five  that 
he  needed  an  axman  or  a  sawyer,  or  a  loader,  or  team- 
ster, as  the  case  might  be.  The  best  man  in  the  other 
camps  was  sent  up. 

So  Shearer  was  foreman  of  a  picked  crew.  Proba- 
bly no  finer  body  of  men  was  ever  gathered  at  one 
camp.  In  them  one  could  study  at  his  best  the  Amer- 
ican pioneer.  It  was  said  at  that  time  that  you  had 
never  seen  logging  done  as  it  should  be  until  you  had 
visited  Thorpe's  Camp  One  on  the  Ossawinamakee. 

Of  these  men  Thorpe  demanded  one  thing  —  suc- 
cess. He  tried  never  to  ask  of  them  anything  he  did 
not  believe  to  be  thoroughly  possible ;  but  he  expected 


250  THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

always  that  in  some  manner,  by  hook  or  crook, 
would  carry  the  affair  through.  No  matter  how  good 
the  excuse,  it  was  never  accepted.  Accidents  would 
happen,  there  as  elsewhere  ;  a  way  to  arrive  in  spite  of 
them  always  exists,  if  only  a  man  is  willing  to  use  his 
wits,  unflagging  energy,  and  time.  Bad  luck  is  a  real- 
ity ;  but  much  of  what  is  called  bad  luck  is  nothing  but 
a  want  of  careful  foresight,  and  Thorpe  could  better 
afford  to  be  harsh  occasionally  to  the  genuine  for  the 
sake  of  eliminating  the  false.  If  a  man  failed,  he  left 
Camp  One. 

The  procedure  was  very  simple.  Thorpe  never  ex- 
plained his  reasons  even  to  Shearer. 

"  Ask  Tom  to  step  in  a  moment,"  he  re  uested  of 
the  latter. 

"  Tom,"  he  said  to  that  individual,  "  I  think  I  can 
use  you  better  at  Four.  Report  to  Kerlie  there." 

And  strangely  enough,  few  even  of  these  proud  and 
independent  men  ever  asked  for  their  time,  or  pre- 
ferred to  quit  rather  than  to  work  up  again  to  the 
glories  of  their  prize  camp. 

For  while  new  recruits  were  never  Accepted  at 
Camp  One,  neither  was  a  man  ever  discharged  there. 
He  was  merely  transferred  to  one  of  the  other  fore- 
men. 

It  is  necessary  to  be  thus  minute  in  order  that  the 
reader  may  understand  exactly  the  class  of  men 
Thorpe  had  about  his  immediate  person.  Some  of 
them  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  hardest  citizens 
in  three  States,  others  were  mild  as  turtle  doves. 
They  were  all  pioneers.  They  had  the  independence, 
the  unabashed  eye,  the  insubordination  even,  of  the 
man  who  has  drawn  his  intellectual  and  moral  nour- 
ishment at  the  breast  of  a  wild  nature.  They  wer* 
afraid  of  nothing  alive.  From  no  one,  were  he  chore- 
boy  or  president,  would  they  take  a  single  word  — " 
with  the  exception  always  of  Tim  Shearer  and  Thorpe- 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  251 

The  former  they  respected  because  in  their  pictur- 
esque guild  he  was  a  master  craftsman.  The  latter 
they  adored  and  quoted  and  fought  for  in  distant 
saloons,  because  he  represented  to  them  their  own 
ideal,  what  they  would  be  if  freed  from  the  heavy  gyves 
of  vice  and  executive  incapacity  that  weighed  them 
down. 

And  they  were  loyal.  It  was  a  point  of  honor  with 
them  to  stay  "  until  the  last  dog  was  hung."  He  who 
deserted  in  the  hour  of  need  was  not  only  a  renegade, 
but  a  fool.  For  he  thus  earned  a  magnificent  licking 
if  ever  he  ran  up  against  a  member  of  the  "  Fighting 
Forty."  A  band  of  soldiers  they  were,  ready  to  at- 
tempt anything  their  commander  ordered,  devoted, 
enthusiastically  admiring.  And,  it  must  be  confessed, 
they  were  also  somewhat  on  the  order  of  a  band  of 
pirates.  Marquette  thought  so  each  spring  after  the 
drive,  when,  hat-tilted,  they  surged  swearing  and 
shouting  down  to  Denny  Hogan's  saloon.  Denny  had 
to  buy  new  fixtures  when  they  went  away ;  but  it  was 
worth  it. 

Proud !  it  was  no  name  for  it.  Boast !  the  fame  of 
Camp  One  spread  abroad  over  the  land,  and  was  be- 
lieved in  to  about  twenty  per  cent  of  the  anecdotes  de- 
tailed of  it  —  which  was  near  enough  the  actual  truth. 
Anecdotes  disbelieved,  the  class  of  men  from  it  would 
have  given  it  a  reputation.  The  latter  was  varied 
enough,  in  truth.  Some  people  thought  Camp  One 
must  be  a  sort  of  hell-hole  of  roaring,  fighting  devils. 
Others  sighed  and  made  rapid  calculations  of  the  num- 
ber of  logs  they  could  put  in,  if  only  they  could  get 
hold  of  help  like  that. 

Thorpe  himself,  of  course,  made  his  headquarters 
at  Camp  One.  Thence  he  visited  at  least  once  a  week 
all  the  other  camps,  inspecting  the  minutest  details, 
not  ocily  of  the  work,  but  of  the  everyday  life.  For 
this  purpose  he  maintained  a  light  box  sleigh  and  a 


252  THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

pair  of  bays,  though  often,  when  the  snow  became 
deep,  he  was  forced  to  snowshoes. 

During  the  five  years  he  had  never  crossed  the 
Straits  of  Mackinaw.  The  rupture  with  his  sister  had 
made  repugnant  to  him  all  the  southern  country.  He 
preferred  to  remain  in  the  woods.  All  winter  long  he 
was  more  than  busy  at  his  logging.  Summers  he 
spent  at  the  mill.  Occasionally  he  visited  Marquette, 
but  always  on  business.  He  became  used  to  seeing 
only  the  rough  faces  of  men.  The  vision  of  softer 
graces  and  beauties  lost  its  distinctness  before  this 
strong,  hardy  northland,  whose  gentler  moods  were 
like  velvet  over  iron,  or  like  its  own  summer  leaves 
veiling  the  eternal  darkness  of  the  pines. 

He  was  happy  because  he  was  too  busy  to  be  any- 
thing else.  The  insistent  need  of  success  which  he 
had  created  for  himself,  absorbed  all  other  sentiments. 
He  demanded  it  of  others  rigorously.  He  could  do  no 
less  than  demand  it  of  himself.  It  had  practically  be- 
come one  of  his  tenets  of  belief.  The  chief  end  of  any 
man,  as  he  saw  it,  was  to  do  well  and  successfully  what 
his  life  found  ready.  Anything  to  further  this  fore- 
ordained activity  was  good;  anything  else  was  bad. 
These  thoughts,  aided  by  a  disposition  naturally  fer- 
vent and  single  in  purpose,  hereditarily  ascetic  and 
conscientious  —  for  his  mother  was  of  old  New  Eng- 
land stock  —  gave  to  him  in  the  course  of  six  years' 
striving  a  sort  of  daily  and  familiar  religion  to  which 
he  conformed  his  life. 

Success,  success,  success.  Nothing  could  be  of 
more  importance.  Its  attainment  argued  a  man's  effi- 
ciency in  the  Scheme  of  Things,  his  worthy  fulfillment 
of  the  end  for  which  a  divine  Providence  had  placed 
him  on  earth.  Anything  that  interfered  with  it,  —  per- 
sonal comfort,  inclination,  affection,  desire,  love  of 
ease,  individual  liking,  —  was  bad. 

Luckily  for  Thorpe's  peace  of  mind,  his  habit  ol 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  253 

looking  on  men  as  things  helped  him  keep  to  this  at- 
titude of  mind.  His  lumbermen  were  tools,  —  good, 
sharp,  efficient  tools,  to  be  sure,  but  only  because  he 
had  made  them  so.  Their  loyalty  aroused  in  his 
breast  no  pride  nor  gratitude.  He  expected  loyalty. 
He  would  have  discharged  at  once  a  man  who  did  not 
show  it.  The  same  with  zeal,  intelligence,  effort  — 
they  were  the  things  he  took  for  granted.  As  for  the 
admiration  and  affection  which  the  Fighting  Forty 
displayed  for  him  personally,  he  gave  not  a  thought 
to  it.  And  the  men  knew  it,  and  loved  him  the  more 
from  the  fact. 

Thorpe  cared  for  just  three  people,  and  none  of  them 
happened  to  clash  with  his  machine.  They  were  Wal- 
lace Carpenter,  little  Phil,  and  Injin  Charley. 

Wallace,  for  reasons  already  explained  at  length, 
was  always  personally  agreeable  to  Thorpe.  Latter- 
ly, since  the  erection  of  the  mill,  he  had  developed  un- 
expected acumen  in  the  disposal  of  the  season's  cut 
to  wholesale  dealers  in  Chicago.  Nothing  could  have 
been  better  for  the  firm.  Thereafter  he  was  often  in 
the  woods,  both  for  pleasure  and  to  get  his  partner's 
ideas  on  what  the  firm  would  have  to  offer.  The  entire 
responsibility  r*  the  city  end  of  the  business  was  in 
his  hands. 

Injin  Charley  continued  to  hunt  and  trap  in  the 
country  round  about.  Between  him  and  Thorpe  had 
grown  a  friendship  the  more  solid  in  that  its  increase 
had  been  mysteriously  without  outward  cause.  Once 
or  twice  a  month  the  lumberman  would  snowshoe 
down  to  the  little  cabin  at  the  forks.  Entering, 
he  would  nod  briefly  and  seat  himself  on  a  cracker- 
box. 

"  How  do,  Charley,"  said  he. 

"  How  do,"  replied  Charley. 

They  filled  pipes  and  smoked.  At  rare  intervals 
one  of  them  made  a  remark,  tersely, 


254  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  Catch  um  three  beaver  las'  week,"  remarked 
Charley. 

"  Good  haul,"  commented  Thorpe. 

Or: 

"  I  saw  a  mink  track  by  the  big  boulder,"  offered 
Thorpe. 

"  H'm !  "  responded  Charley  in  a  long-drawn  fal- 
setto whine. 

Yet  somehow  the  men  came  to  know  each  other  bet- 
ter and  better ;  and  each  felt  that  in  an  emergency  he 
could  depend  on  the  other  to  the  uttermost  in  spite 
of  the  difference  in  race. 

As  for  Phil,  he  was  like  some  strange,  shy  animal, 
retaining  all  its  wild  instincts,  but  led  by  affection  to 
become  domestic.  He  drew  the  water,  cut  the  wood, 
—  none  better.  In  the  evening  he  played  atrociously 
his  violin,  —  none  worse,  —  bending  his  great  white 
brow  forward  with  the  wolf-glare  in  his  eyes,  swaying 
his  shoulders  with  a  fierce  delight  in  the  subtle  disso- 
nances, the  swaggering  exactitude  of  time,  the  vulgar 
rendition  of  the  horrible  tunes  he  played.  And  often 
he  went  into  the  forest  and  gazed  wondering  through 
his  liquid  poet's  eyes  at  occult  things.  Above  all,  he 
worshipped  Thorpe.  And  in  turn  the  lumberman  ac- 
corded him  a  good-natured  affection.  He  was  as  in- 
dispensable to  Camp  One  as  the  beagles. 

And  the  beagles  were  most  indispensable.  No  one 
could  have  got  along  without  them.  In  the  course 
of  events  and  natural  selection  they  had  increased  to 
eleven.  At  night  they  slept  in  the  men's  camp  under- 
neath or  very  near  the  stove.  By  daylight  in  the 
morning  they  were  clamoring  at  the  door.  Never  had 
they  caught  a  hare.  Never  for  a  moment  did  their 
hopes  sink.  The  men  used  sometimes  to  amuse  them- 
selves by  refusing  the  requested  exit.  The  little  dogs 
agonized.  They  leaped  and  yelped,  falling  over  each 
other  like  a  tangle  of  angleworms.  Then  finally,  when 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  255 

the  door  at  last  flung  wide,  they  precipitated  them- 
selves eagerly  and  silently  through  the  opening.  A 
few  moments  later  a  single  yelp  rose  in  the  direction 
of  the  swamp ;  the  band  took  up  the  cry.  From  then 
until  dark  the  glade  was  musical  with  baying.  At 
supper  time  they  returned  straggling,  their  expression 
pleased,  six  inches  of  red  tongue  hanging  from  the 
corners  of  their  mouths,  ravenously  ready  for  supper. 

Strangely  enough  the  big  white  hares  never  left  tke 
swamp.  Perhaps  the  same  one  was  never  chased  two 
days  in  succession.  Or  it  is  possible  that  the  quarry 
enjoyed  the  harmless  game  as  much  as  did  the  little 
dogs. 

Once  only  while  the  snow  lasted  was  the  hunt  aban- 
doned for  a  few  days.  Wallace  Carpenter  announced 
his  intention  of  joining  forces  with  the  diminutive 
hounds. 

"  It's  a  shame,  so  it  is,  doggies !  "  he  laughed  at  the 
tried  pack.  "  We'll  get  one  to-morrow." 

So  he  took  his  shotgun  to  the  swamp,  and  after  a 
half  hour's  wait,  succeeded  in  killing  the  hare.  From 
that  moment  he  was  the  hero  of  those  ecstacized  ca- 
nines. They  tangled  about  him  everywhere.  He 
hardly  dared  take  a  step  for  fear  of  crushing  one  of 
the  open  faces  and  expectant,  pleading  eyes  looking 
tip  at  him.  It  grew  to  be  a  nuisance.  Wallace  always 
claimed  his  trip  was  considerably  shortened  because 
he  coulu  not  get  away  from  his  admirers. 


Chapter  XXXVI 


ti  .  FINANCIALLY  the  Company  was  rated  high, 
rj  and  yet  was  heavily  in  debt.  This  condition  of 
JL  affairs  by  no  means  constitutes  an  anomaly  in 
the  lumbering  business. 

Tht  profits  of  the  first  five  years  had  been  immedi- 
ately .^invested  in  the  business.  Thorpe,  with  the 
foresignt  that  had  originally  led  him  into  this  new 
country,  saw  farther  than  the  instant's  gain.  He  in- 
tended to  establish  in  a  few  years  more  a  big  plant 
which  would  be  returning  benefices  in  proportion  not 
only  to  the  capital  originally  invested,  but  also  in  ratio 
to  the  energy,  time,  and  genius  he  had  himself  ex- 
pended. It  was  not  the  affair  of  a  moment.  It  was 
not  the  affair  of  half-measures,  of  timidity. 

Thorpe  knew  that  he  could  play  safely,  cutting  a  few 
millions  a  year,  expanding  cautiously.  By  this  method 
he  would  arrive,  but  only  after  a  long  period. 

Or  he  could  do  as  many  other  firms  have  done; 
start  on  borrowed  money. 

In  the  latter  case  he  had  only  one  thing  to  fear,  and 
that  was  fire.  Every  cent,  and  many  times  .ver,  of 
his  obligations  would  be  represented  in  the  state  of 
raw  material.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  cut  it  out  by 
the  very  means  which  the  yearly  profits  of  his  busi- 
ness would  enable  him  to  purchase.  For  the  moment, 
he  owed  a  great  deal ;  without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt 
mere  industry  would  clear  his  debt,  and  leave  him 
with  substantial  acquisitions  created,  practically,  from 
nothing  but  his  own  abilities.  The  money  obtained 
irom  his  mortgages  was  a  tool  which  he  picked  uj> 

356 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  257 

an  instant,  used  to  fashion  one  of  his  own,  and  laid 
aside. 

Every  autumn  the  Company  found  itself  suddenly 
in  easy  circumstances.  At  any  moment  that  Thorpe 
had  chosen  to  be  content  with  the  progress  made,  he 
could  have,  so  to  speak,  declared  dividends  with  his 
partner.  Instead  of  undertaking  more  improvements, 
for  part  of  which  he  borrowed  some  money,  he  could 
have  divided  the  profits  of  the  season's  cut.  But  this 
he  was  not  yet  ready  to  do. 

He  had  established  five  more  camps,  he  had  acquired 
over  a  hundred  and  fifty  million  more  of  timber  lying 
contiguous  to  his  own,  he  had  built  and  equipped  a 
modern  high-efficiency  mill,  he  had  constructed  a  har- 
bor break-water  and  the  necessary  booms,  he  had 
bought  a  tug,  built  a  boarding-house.  All  this  costs 
money.  He  wished  now  to  construct  a  logging  rail- 
road. Then  he  promised  himself  and  Wallace  that 
they  would  be  ready  to  commence  paying  operations. 

The  logging  railroad  was  just  then  beginning  to 
gain  recognition.  A  few  miles  of  track,  a  locomotive, 
and  a  number  of  cars  consisting  uniquely  of  wheels 
and  "  bunks,"  or  cross  beams  on  which  to  chain  the 
logs,  and  a  fairly  well-graded  right-of-way  comprised 
the  outfit.  Its  use  obviated  the  necessity  of  driving  the 
river  —  always  an  expensive  operation.  Often,  too, 
the  decking  at  the  skidways  could  be  dispensed  with ; 
and  the  sleigh  hauls,  if  not  entirely  superseded  for  the 
remote  districts,  were  entirely  so  in  the  country  for  a 
half  mile  on  either  side  of  the  track,  and  in  any  case 
were  greatly  shortened.  There  obtained,  too,  the  ad- 
ditional advantage  of  being  able  to  cut  summer  and 
winter  alike.  Thus,  the  plant  once  established,  log- 
ging by  railroad  was  not  only  easier  but  cheaper.  Of 
late  years  it  has  come  into  almost  universal  use  in  big 
jobs  and  wherever  the  nature  of  the  country  will  per- 
mit. The  old-fashioned,  picturesque  ice-road  sleigh- 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

haul  will  last  as  long  as  north-woods  lumbering,— 
even  in  the  railroad  districts,  —  but  the  loconotive 
now  does  the  heavy  v  rk. 

With  the  capital  to  )e  obtained  from  the  following 
winter's  product,  Thcipe  hoped  to  be  able  to  establish 
a  branch  which  should  run  from  a  point  some  two  miles 
behind  Camp  One,  to  a  "dump"  a  short  distance  above 
the  mill.  For  this  he  had  made  all  the  estimates,  and 
even  the  preliminary  survey.  He  was  therefore  the 
more  grievously  disappointed,  when  Wallace  Carpen- 
ter made  it  impossible  for  him  to  do  so. 

He  was  sitting  in  the  mill-office  one  day  about  the 
middle  of  July.  Herrick,  the  engineer,  had  just  been 
in.  He  could  not  keep  the  engine  in  order,  although 
Thorpe  knew  that  it  could  be  done. 

"  I've  sot  up  nights  with  her,"  said  Herrick,  "  and 
she's  no  go.  I  think  I  can  fix  her  when  my  head  gets 
all  right.  I  got  headachy  lately.  And  somehow  that 
last  lot  of  Babbit  metal  didn't  seem  to  act  just  right." 

Thorpe  looked  out  of  the  window,  tapping  his  desk 
slowly  with  the  end  of  a  lead  pencil. 

"  Collins,"  said  he  to  the  bookkeeper,  without  rais- 
ing his  voice  or  altering  his  position,  "  make  out  Her- 
rick's  time." 

The  man  stood  there  astonished. 

"  But  I  had  hard  luck,  sir,"  he  expostulated. 
"  She'll  go  all  right  now,  I  think." 

Thorpe  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Herrick,"  he  said,  not  unkindly,  "  this  is  the 
second  time  this  summer  the  mill  has  had  to  close 
early  on  account  of  that  engine.  We  have  supplied 
you  with  everything  you  asked  for.  If  you  can't  do  it, 
we  shall  have  to  get  a  man  who  can." 

"  But  I  had  — "  began  the  man  once  more. 

"  I  ask  every  man  to  succeed  in  what  I  give  him 
to  do,"  interrupted  Thorpe.  "  If  he  has  a  headache, 
he  must  brace  up  or  quit.  If  his  Babbit  doesn't  act 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  259 

just  right  he  must  doctor  it  up;  or  get  some  more, 
even  if  he  has  to  steal  it.  If  he  has  hard  luck,  he  must 
sit  up  nights  to  better  it.  It's  none  of  my  concern  how 
hard  or  how  easy  a  time  a  man  has  in  doing  what  I 
tell  him  to.  /  expect  him  to  do  it.  If  I  have  to  do  aM 
a  man's  thinking  for  him,  I  may  as  well  hire  Swedes 
and  be  done  with  it.  I  have  too  many  details  to  attend 
to  already  without  bothering  about  excuses." 

The  man  stood  puzzling  over  this  logic. 

"  I  ain't  got  any  other  job,"  he  ventured. 

"  You  can  go  to  piling  on  the  docks,"  replied 
Thorpe,  "  if  you  want  to." 

Thorpe  was  thus  explicit  because  he  rather  liked 
Herrick.  It  was  hard  for  him  to  discharge  the  man 
peremptorily,  and  he  proved  the  need  of  justifying 
himself  in  his  own  eyes. 

Now  he  sat  back  idly  in  the  clean  painted  little  room 
with  the  big  square  desk  and  the  three  chairs. 
Through  the  door  he  could  see  Collins,  perched  on  a 
high  stool  before  the  shelf-like  desk.  From  the  open 
window  came  the  clear,  musical  note  of  the  circular 
saw,  the  fresh  aromatic  smell  of  new  lumber,  the  brac- 
ing air  from  Superior  sparkling  in  the  offing.  He  felt 
tired.  In  rare  moments  such  as  these,  when  the  mus- 
cles of  his  striving  relaxed,  his  mind  turned  to  the  past 
Old  sorrows  rose  before  him  and  looked  at  him  with 
their  sad  eyes ;  the  sorrows  that  had  helped  to  make 
him  what  he  was,  He  wondered  where  his  sister  was. 
She  would  be  twenty-two  years  old  now.  A  tender- 
ness, haunting,  tearful,  invaded  his  heart.  He  suf- 
fered. At  such  moments  the  hard  shell  of  his  rough 
woods  life  seemed  to  rend  apart.  He  longed  with  a 
great  longing  for  sympathy,  for  love,  for  the  softer 
influences  that  cradle  even  warriors  between  the 
clangors  of  the  battles. 

The  outer  door,  beyond  the  cage  behind  which  Col- 
lins and  his  shelf  desk  were  placed,  flew  open.  Thorpe 


260  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

heard  a  brief  greeting,  and  Wallace  Carpenter  stood 
before  him. 

"  Why,  Wallace,  I  didn't  know  you  were  coming !  " 
began  Thorpe,  and  stopped.  The  boy,  usually  stf 
fresh  and  happily  buoyant,  looked  ten  years  older. 
Wrinkles  had  gathered  between  his  eyes.  "  Why, 
what's  the  matter?  "  cried  Thorpe. 

He  rose  swiftly  and  shut  the  door  into  the  outer 
office.  Wallace  seated  himself  mechanically. 

"  Everything !  everything ! "  he  said  in  despair. 
14  I've  been  a  fool !  I've  been  blind !  " 

So  bitter  was  his  tone  that  Thorpe  was  startled. 
The  lumberman  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the 
desk. 

"  That'll  do,  Wallace,"  he  said  sharply.  "  Tell  me 
briefly  what  is  the  matter." 

"  I've  been  speculating!  "  burst  out  the  boy. 

"  Ah !  "  said  his  partner. 

"  At  first  I  bought  only  dividend-paying  stocks  out- 
right. Then  I  bought  for  a  rise,  but  still  outright. 
Then  I  got  in  with  a  fellow  who  claimed  to  know  ail 
about  it.  I  bought  on  a  margin.  There  came  a 
slump.  I  met  the  margins  because  I  am  sure  there 
will  be  a  rally,  but  now  all  my  fortune  is  in  the  thing. 
I'm  going  to  be  penniless.  I'll  lose  it  all." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Thorpe. 

"  And  the  name  of  Carpenter  is  so  old-established, 
so  honorable ! "  cried  the  unhappy  boy,  "  and  my 
sister ! " 

"  Easy !  "  warned  Thorpe.  "  Being  penniless  isn't 
the  worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  a  man." 

"  No ;  but  I  am  in  debt,"  went  on  the  boy  more 
calmly.  "  I  have  given  notes.  When  they  come  due, 
I'm  a  goner." 

"  How  much  ?  "  asked  Thorpe  laconically. 

"  Thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Well,  you  have  that  amount  in  this  firm." 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  264 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  If  you  want  it,  you  can  have  it." 

Wallace  considered  a  moment. 

"  That  would  leave  me  without  a  cent,"  he  replied. 

"  But  it  would  save  your  commercial  honor." 

"  Harry,"  cried  Wallace  suddenly,  "  couldn't  this 
firm  go  on  my  note  for  thirty  thousand  more?  Its 
credit  is  good,  and  that  amount  would  save  my  mar- 
gins." 

"  You  are  partner,"  replied  Thorpe,  "  your  signa- 
ture is  as  good  as  mine  in  this  firm." 

"  But  you  know  I  wouldn't  do  it  without  your  con- 
sent," replied  Wallace  reproachfully.  "  Oh,  Harry !  " 
cried  the  boy,  "  when  you  needed  the  amount,  I  let 
you  have  it !  " 

Thorpe  smiled. 

"  You  know  you  can  have  it,  if  it's  to  be  had,  Wal- 
lace. I  wasn't  hesitating  on  that  account.  I  was 
merely  trying  to  figure  out  where  we  can  raise  such 
a  ?um  as  sixty  thousand  dollars.  We  haven't  got  it.M 

"  But  you'll  never  have  to  pay  it,"  assured  Wallace 
eagerly.  "  If  I  can  save  my  margins,  I'll  be  all  right." 

"  A  man  has  to  figure  on  paying  whatever  he  puts 
his  signature  to,"  asserted  Thorpe.  "  I  can  give  you 
our  note  payable  at  the  end  of  a  year.  Then  I'll  hustle 
in  enough  timber  to  make  up  the  amount.  It  means 
we  don't  get  our  railroad,  that's  all." 

"  I  knew  you'd  help  me  out.  Now  it's  all  right," 
said  Wallace,  with  a  relieved  air. 

Thorpe  shook  his  head.  He  was  already  trying  to 
figure  how  to  increase  his  cut  to  thirty  million  feet. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  after  Wallace 
had  gone  out  to  visit  the  mill.  "  I've  been  demanding 
success  of  others  for  a  good  many  years;  now  I'll  d^ 
nwnd  it  of  myself." 


THE 

BLAZED 
TRAIL 

r     -.;•••• 

Part  IV 
Thorpe's  Dream  Girl 

r        r 
r 


Chapter  XXXVII 


rHE  moment  had  struck  for  the  woman. 
Thorpe  did  not  know  it,  but  it  was  true.  A 
solitary,  brooding  life  in  the  midst  of  grand 
surroundings,  an  active,  strenuous  life  among  great 
responsibilities,  a  starved,  hungry  life  of  the  affections 
whence  even  the  sister  had  withdrawn  her  love,  —  all 
these  had  worked  unobtrusively  towards  the  forma- 
tion of  a  single  psychological  condition.  Such  a  mo- 
ment comes  to  every  man.  In  it  he  realizes  the  beau- 
ties, the  powers,  the  vastnesses  which  unconsciously 
his  being  has  absorbed.  They  rise  to  the  surface  as  a 
need,  which,  being  satisfied,  is  projected  into  the  visi- 
ble world  as  an  ideal  to  be  worshipped.  Then  is  happi- 
ness and  misery  beside  which  the  mere  struggle  to 
dominate  men  becomes  trivial,  the  petty  striving  with 
the  forces  of  nature  seems  a  little  thing.  And  the 
woman  he  at  that  time  meets  takes  on  the  qualities  of 
the  dream;  she  is  more  than  woman,  less  than  god- 
dess ;  she  is  the  best  of  that  man  made  visible. 

Thorpe  found  himself  for  the  first  time  filled  with 
the  spirit  of  restlessness.  His  customary  iron  even- 
ness of  temper  was  gone,  so  that  he  wandered  quickly 
from  one  detail  of  his  work  to  another,  without  seem- 
ing to  penetrate  below  the  surface-need  of  any  one 
task.  Out  of  the  present  his  mind  was  always  escap- 
ing to  a  mystic  fourth  dimension  which  he  did  not 
understand.  But  a  week  before,  he  had  felt  himself 
absorbed  in  the  component  parts  of  his  enterprise,  the 
totality  of  which  arched  far  over  his  head,  shutting  out 
the  skv.  Now  he  was  outside  of  it.  He  had,  without 


266  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

his  volition,  abandoned  the  creator's  standpoint  of  the 
god  at  the  heart  of  his  work.  It  seemed  as  important, 
as  great  to  him,  but  somehow  it  had  taken  on  a  strange 
solidarity,  as  though  he  had  left  it  a  plastic  beginning 
and  returned  to  find  it  hardened  into  the  shapes  of 
finality.  He  acknowledged  it  admirable,  —  and  won- 
dered how  he  had  ever  accomplished  it!  He  con- 
fessed that  it  should  be  finished  as  it  had  begun,  —  and 
could  not  discover  in  himself  the  Titan  who  had 
watched  over  its  inception. 

Thorpe  took  this  state  of  mind  much  to  heart,  and 
in  combating  it  expended  more  energy  than  would 
have  sufficed  tc  accomplish  the  work.  Inexorably  he 
held  himself  to  the  task.  He  filled  his  mind  full  of 
lumbering.  The  millions  along  the  bank  on  section 
nine  must  be  cut  and  travoyed  directly  to  the  rollways. 
It  was  a  shame  that  the  necessity  should  arise.  From 
section  nine  Thorpe  had  hoped  to  lighten  the  expenses 
when  finally  he  should  begin  operations  on  the  distant 
and  inaccessible  headwaters  of  French  Creek.  Now 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  The  instant  necessity  was  to 
get  thirty  millions  of  pine  logs  down  the  river  before 
Wallace  Carpenter's  notes  came  due.  Every  other 
consideration  had  to  yield  before  that.  Fifteen  mill- 
ions more  could  be  cut  on  seventeen,  nineteen,  and 
eleven,  —  regions  hitherto  practically  untouched,  —  by 
the  men  in  the  four  camps  inland.  Camp  One  and 
Camp  Three  could  attend  to  section  nine. 

These  were  details  to  which  Thorpe  applied  his 
mind.  As  he  pushed  through  the  sun-flecked  forest, 
laying  out  his  roads,  placing  his  travoy  trails,  spying 
the  difficulties  that  might  supervene  to  mar  the  fair 
face  of  honest  labor,  he  had  always  this  thought  before 
him,  —  that  he  must  apply  his  mind.  By  an  effort,  a 
tremendous  effort,  he  succeeded  in  doing  so.  The 
effort  left  him  limp.  He  found  himself  often  standing, 
or  moving  gently,  his  eyes  staring  sightless,  his  mind 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  267 

cradled  on  vague  misty  clouds  of  absolute  inaction, 
his  will  chained  so  softly  and  yet  so  firmly  that  he  felt 
no  strength  and  hardly  the  desire  to  break  from  the 
dream  that  lulled  him.  Then  he  was  conscious  of  the 
physical  warmth  of  the  sun,  the  faint  sweet  woods 
smells,  the  soothing  caress  of  the  breeze,  the  sleepy 
cicada-like  note  of  the  pine  creeper.  Through  his 
naif-closed  lashes  the  tangled  sun-beams  made  soft- 
tinted  rainbows.  He  wanted  nothing  so  much  as  to 
sit  on  the  pine  needles  there  in  the  golden  flood  of 
radiance,  and  dream  —  dream  on  —  vaguely,  comfort- 
ably, sweetly  —  dream  of  the  summer 

Thorpe,  with  a  mighty  and  impatient  effort,  snapped 
the  silken  cords  asunder. 

"  Lord,  Lord !  "  he  cried  impatiently.  "  What's 
coming  to  me  ?  I  must  be  a  little  off  my  feed !  " 

And  he  hurried  rapidly  to  his  duties.  After  an  hour 
of  the  hardest  concentration  he  had  ever  been  required 
to  bestow  on  a  trivial  subject,  he  again  unconsciously 
sank  by  degrees  into  the  old  apathy. 

"  Glad  it  isn't  the  busy  season ! "  he  commented  to 
himself.  "  Here,  I  must  quit  this !  Guess  it's  the 
warm  weather.  I'll  get  down  to  the  mill  for  a  day  or 
two." 

There  he  found  himself  incapable  of  even  the  most 
petty  routine  work.  He  sat  to  his  desk  at  eight 
o'clock  and  began  the  perusal  of  a  sheaf  of  letters, 
comprising  a  certain  correspondence,  which  Collins 
brought  him.  The  first  three  he  read  carefully;  the 
following  two  rather  hurriedly;  of  the  next  one  he 
seized  only  the  salient  and  essential  points ;  the  seventh 
and  eighth  he  skimmed ;  the  remainder  of  the  bundle 
he  thrust  aside  in  uncontrollable  impatience.  Next 
day  he  returned  to  the  woods. 

The  incident  of  the  letters  had  aroused  to  the  full 
his  old  fighting  spirit,  before  which  no  mere  instincts 
could  stand.  He  clamped  the  iron  to  his  actions  and 


268  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

forced  them  to  the  way  appointed.  Once  more  his 
mental  processes  became  clear  and  incisive,  his  com- 
mands direct  and  to  the  point.  To  all  outward  appear- 
ance Thorpe  was  as  before. 

He  opened  Camp  One,  and  the  Fighting  Forty  came 
back  from  distant  drinking  joints.  This  was  in  early 
September,  when  the  raspberries  were  entirely  done 
and  the  blackberries  fairly  in  the  way  of  vanishing. 
That  able-bodied  and  devoted  band  of  men  was  on 
hand  when  needed.  Shearer,  in  some  subtle  manner 
of  his  own,  had  let  them  feel  that  this  year  meant  thirty 
million  or  "  bust."  They  tightened  their  leather  belts 
and  stood  ready  for  commands.  Thorpe  set  them  to 
work  near  the  river,  cutting  roads  along  the  lines  he 
had  blazed  to  the  inland  timber  on  seventeen  and  nine- 
teen. After  much  discussion  with  Shearer  the  young 
man  decided  to  take  out  the  logs  from  eleven  by  driv- 
ing them  down  French  Creek. 

To  this  end  a  gang  was  put  to  clearing  the  creek- 
bed.  It  was  a  tremendous  job.  Centuries  of  forest 
life  had  choked  the  little  stream  nearly  to  the  level  of 
its  banks.  Old  snags  and  stumps  lay  imbedded  in  the 
ooze;  decayed  trunks,  moss-grown,  blocked  the  cur- 
rent; leaning  tamaracks,  fallen  timber,  tangled  vines, 
dense  thickets  gave  to  its  course  more  the  appearance 
of  a  tropical  jungle  than  of  a  north  country  brook- 
bed.  All  these  things  had  to  be  removed,  one  by  one, 
and  either  piled  to  one  side  or  burnt.  In  the  end, 
however,  it  would  pay.  French  Creek  was  not  a  large 
stream,  but  it  could  be  driven  during  the  time  of  the 
spring  freshets. 

Each  night  the  men  returned  in  the  beautiful  dream- 
like twilight  to  the  camp.  There  they  sat,  after  eating, 
smoking  their  pipes  in  the  open  air.  Much  of  the  time 
they  sang,  while  Phil,  crouching  wolf-like  over  his 
violin,  rasped  out  an  accompaniment  of  dissonances. 
From  a  distance  it  softened  and  fitted  pleasantly  into 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  269 

the  framework  of  the  wilderness.  The  men's  voices 
lent  themselves  well  to  the  weird  minor  strains  of  the 
chanteys.  These  times  —  when  the  men  sang,  and  the 
night-wind  rose  and  died  in  the  hemlock  tops  —  were 
Thorpe's  worst  moments.  His  soul,  tired  with  the 
day's  iron  struggle,  fell  to  brooding.  Strange  thoughts 
came  to  him,  strange  visions.  He  wanted  something 
—  he  knew  not  what ;  he  longed,  and  thrilled,  and 
aspired  to  a  greater  glory  than  that  of  brave  deeds, 
a  softer  comfort  than  his  old  foster  mother,  the  wilder- 
ness, could  bestow. 

The  men  were  singing  in  a  mighty  chorus,  swaying 
their  heads  in  unison,  and  bringing  out  with  a  roar 
the  emphatic  words  of  the  crude  ditties  written  bj 
some  genius  from  their  own  ranks. 

M  Come  all  ye  sons  of  freedom  throughout  old  Michigan, 
Come  all  ye  gallant  lumbermen,  list  to  a  shanty  man, 
On  the  banks  of  the  Muskegon,  where  the  rapid  water* 

flow, 

QHf  —  we'll  range  the  wild  woods  der  while  a-lumbering 
we  go," 

Here  was  the  bold  unabashed  front  of  the  pioneer, 
here  was  absolute  certainty  in  the  superiority  of  his 
calling,  —  absolute  scorn  of  all  others.  Thorpe  passed 
his  hand  across  his  brow.  The  same  spirit  was  once 
fully  and  freely  his. 

*  The  music  of  our  burnished  ax  shall  make  the  wood* 

resound, 

And  many  a  lofty  ancient  pine  will  tumble  to  the  ground* 
At  night  around  our  shanty  fire  we'll  sing  while  rudt 

winds  blow, 
OH  /•—  we* II  range  the  wild  woods  o*er  while  a-lumbering 

we  go  I " 

That  was  what  he  was  here  for.  Things  were  going 
right.  It  would  be  pitiful  to  fail  merely  on  account 


27o  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

r*  this  idiotic  lassitude,  this  unmanly  weakness,  this. 
boyish  impatience  and  desire  for  play.  He  a  woods- 
man !  He  a  fellow  with  these  big  strong  men ! 

A  single  voice,  clear  and  high,  struck  into  a  quick 
measure : 

*  /  am  a  jolly  shanty  boy, 

As  you  will  soon  discover  ; 
To  all  the  dodges  I  am  fly, 

A  hustling  pine-woods  rover. 
A  peavey-hook  it  is  my  pride, 

An  ax  I  well  can  handle. 
To  fell  a  tree  or  punch  a  bull 

Get  rattling  Danny  Randall? 

And  then  with  a  rattle  and  crash  the  whole  Fighting 
Forty  shrieked  out  the  chorus : 

"  Bung  yer  eye  !  bung  yer  eye  !  " 

Active,  alert,  prepared  for  any  emergency  that  might 
arise;  hearty,  ready  for  everything,  from  punching 
bulls  to  felling  trees  —  that  was  something  like! 
Thorpe  despised  himself.  The  song  went  oa. 

a  /  love  a  girl  in  Saginaw, 

She  lives  with  her  mother. 
I  defy  all  Michigan 

To  find  such  another. 
She's  tall  and  slim,  her  hair  is  red. 

Her  face  is  plump  and  pretty. 
She's  my  daisy  Sunday  best-day  girl, 

And  her  front  name  stands  for  Kitty." 

And  again  as  before  the  Fighting  Forty  howled 
truculently : 

**  Bung  yer  eye  t  bung  yer  eye  !  " 

The  words  were  vulgar,  the  air  a  mere  minor  chant. 
Yet  Thorpe's  mind  was  stilled.  His  aroused  subcon- 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  271 

sciousness  had  been  engaged  in  reconstructing  these 
men  entire  as  their  songs  voiced  rudely  the  inner  char- 
acteristics of  their  beings.  Now  his  spirit  halted, 
finger  on  lip.  Their  bravery,  pride  of  caste,  resource, 
bravado,  boastfulness,  —  all  these  he  had  checked  off 
approvingly.  Here  now  was  the  idea  of  the  Mate. 
Somewhere  for  each  of  them  was  a  "  Kitty,"  a  "  daisy 
Sunday  best-day  girl  " ;  the  eternal  feminine ;  the  softer 
side ;  the  tenderness,  beatrty^-  glory  of  even  so  harsh  a 
world  as  they  were  compelled  to  inhabit.  -  At  the  pres- 
ent or  in  the  past  these  woods  roisterers,  this  Fighting 
Forty,  had  known  love.  Thorpe"  arose  abruptly  and 
turned  at  random  into  the  forest.  The  §ong  pursued 
him  as  he  went,  but  he  heard  only  the  clear  sweet 
tones,  not  the  words.  And  yet  even  the  words  would 
have  spelled  to  his  awakened  sensibilities  another  idea, 
—  would  have  symbolized,  however  rudely,  compan- 
ionship and  the  human  delight  of  acting  a  part  before 
a  woman. 

"  /  took  her  to  a  dance  one  night% 

A  mossback  gave  the  bidding  — 
Silver  Jack  bossed  the  shebang. 

And  Big  Dan  played  the  fiddle. 
We  danced  and  drank  the  livelong  night 

With  fights  between  the  dancing , 
Till  Silver  Jack  cleaned  out  the  ranch 

And  sent  the  mossbacks  prancing :" 

And  with  the  increasing  war  and  turmoil  of  Ac 
quick  water  the  last  shout  of  the  Fighting  Forty  min- 
gled faintly  and  was  lost. 

"  Bung  yer  eye  I  bung  yer  eye  !  " 

Thorpe  found  himself  at  the  edge  of  the  woods  fao- 
ing  a  little  glade  into  which  streamed  the  radiance  of 
a  full  moon. 


Chapter  XXXVIII 

rHERE  he  stood  and  looked  silently,  not 
understanding,  not  caring  to  inquire.  Across 
the  way  a  white-throat  was  singing,  clear, 
beautiful,  like  the  shadow  of  a  dream.  The  girl  stood 
listening. 

Her  small  fair  head  was  inclined  ever  so  little  side- 
ways and  her  finger  was  on  her  lips  as  though  she 
wished  to  still  the  very  hush  of  night,  to  which  impres- 
sion the  inclination  of  her  supple  body  lent  its  grace. 
The  moonlight  shone  full  upon  her  countenance.  A  lit- 
tle white  face  it  was,  with  wide  clear  eyes  and  a  sensi- 
tive, proud  mouth  that  now  half  parted  like  a  child's. 
Her  eyebrows  arched  from  her  straight  nose  in  the  pe- 
culiarly graceful  curve  that  falls  just  short  of  pride  on 
the  one  side  and  of  power  on  the  other,  to  fill  the  eyes 
with  a  pathos  of  trust  and  innocence.  The  man  watch- 
ing could  catch  the  poise  of  her  long  white  neck  and 
the  molten  moon-fire  from  her  tumbled  hair,  —  the 
color  of  corn-silk,  but  finer. 

And  yet  these  words  mean  nothing.  A  painter 
might  have  caught  her  charm,  but  he  must  needs  be 
a  poet  as  well,  —  and  a  great  poet,  one  capable  of 
grandeurs  and  subtleties. 

To  the  young  man  standing  there  rapt  in  the  spell 
of  vague  desire,  of  awakened  vision,  she  seemed  most 
like  a  flower  or  a  mist.  He  tried  to  find  words  to 
formulate  her  to  himself,  but  did  not  succeed.  Always 
it  came  back  to  the  same  idea  —  the  flower  and  the 
mist.  Like  the  petals  of  a  flower  most  delicate  was 
her  questioning,  upturned  face;  like  the  bend  of  a 

273 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  273 

Lower  most  rare  the  stalk  of  her  graceful  throat ;  like 
the  poise  of  a  flower  most  dainty  the  attitude  of  her 
beautiful,  perfect  body  sheathed  in  a  garment  that  out- 
lined each  movement,  for  the  instant  in  suspense. 
Like  a  mist  the  glimmering  of  her  skin,  the  shining  of 
her  hair,  the  elusive  moonlike  quality  of  her  whole  per- 
sonality as  she  stood  there  in  the  ghost-like  clearing 
listening,  her  fingers  on  her  lips. 

Behind  her  lurked  the  low,  even  shadow  of  the  for- 
est where  the  moon  was  not,  a  band  cf  velvet  against 
which  the  girl  and  the  light-touched  twigs  and  bushes 
and  grass  blades  were  etched  like  frost  against  a  black 
window  pane.  There  was  something,  too,  of  the  frost- 
work's evanescent  spiritual  quality  in  the  scene,  —  as 
though  at  any  moment,  with  a  puff  of  the  balmy  sum- 
mer wind,  the  radiant  glade,  the  hovering  figure,  the 
filagreed  silver  of  the  entire  setting  would  melt  into 
the  accustomed  stern  and  menacing  forest  of  the  north- 
land,  with  its  wolves,  and  its  wild  deer,  and  the  voices 
of  its  sterner  calling. 

Thorpe  held  his  breath  and  waited.  Again  the 
white-throat  lifted  his  clear,  spiritual  note  across  the 
brightness,  slow,  trembling  with  ecstacy.  The  girl 
never  moved.  She  stood  in  the  moonlight  like  a  beau- 
tiful emblem  of  silence,  half  real,  half  fancy,  part 
woman,  wholly  divine,  listening  to  the  little  bird's 
message. 

For  the  third  time  the  song  shivered  across  the 
night ;  then  Thorpe  with  a  soft  sob,  dropped  his  face 
in  his  hands  and  looked  no  more. 

He  did  not  feel  the  earth  beneath  his  knees,  nor  the 
whip  of  the  sumach  across  his  face ;  he  did  not  see  the 
moon  shadows  creep  slowly  along  the  fallen  birch; 
nor  did  he  notice  that  the  white-throat  had  hushed  its 
song.  His  inmost  spirit  was  shaken.  Something  had 
entered  his  soul  and  filled  it  to  the  brim,  so  that  he 
dared  no  longer  stand  in  the  face  of  radiance  until  he 


274  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

had  accounted  with   himself.     Another  drop   would 
overflow  the  cup. 

Ah,  sweet  God,  the  beauty  of  it,  the  beauty  of  it! 
That  questing,  childlike  starry  gaze,  seeking  so  purely 
to  the  stars  themselves!  That  flower  face,  those 
drooping,  half  parted  lips!  That  inexpressible,  un- 
seizable  something  they  had  meant !  Thorpe  searched 
humbly  —  eagerly  —  then  with  agony  through  his 
troubled  spirit,  and  in  its  furthermost  depths  saw  the 
mystery  as  beautifully  remote  as  ever.  It  approached 
and  swept  over  him  and  left  him  gasping  passion- 
racked.  Ah,  sweet  God,  the  beauty  of  it !  the  beauty 
of  it !  the  vision !  the  dream ! 

He  trembled  and  sobbed  with  his  desire  to  seize  it, 
with  his  impotence  to  express  it,  with  his  failure  even 
to  appreciate  it  as  his  heart  told  him  it  should  be  ap- 
preciated. 

He  dared  not  look.  At  length  he  turned  and  stum- 
bled back  through  the  moonlit  forest  crying  on  his  old 
gods  in  vain. 

At  the  banks  of  the  river  he  came  to  a  halt.  There 
in  the  velvet  pines  the  moonlight  slept  calmly,  and 
the  shadows  rested  quietly  under  the  breezeless  sky. 
Near  at  hand  the  river  shouted  as  ever  its  cry  of  joy 
over  the  vitality  of  life,  like  a  spirited  boy  before  the 
face  of  inscrutable  nature.  All  else  was  silence.  Then 
from  the  waste  boomed  a  strange,  hollow  note,  rising, 
dying,  rising  again,  instinct  with  the  spirit  of  the  wilds. 
It  fell,  and  far  away  sounded  a  heavy  but  distant  crash. 
The  cry  lifted  again.  It  was  the  first  bull  moose  call- 
ing across  the  wilderness  to  his  mate. 

And  then,  faint  but  clear  down  the  current  of  a 
chance  breeze  drifted  the  chorus  of  the  Fighting 
Forty. 

"  The  forests  so  brown  at  our  stroke  go  down. 

And  cities  spring  up  where  they  fell ; 
While  logs  well  run  and  work  well  done 
Is  the  story  the  shanty  boys  tell" 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  275 

Thorpe  turned  from  the  river  with  a  thrust  forward 
of  his  head.  He  was  not  a  religious  man,  and  in  his 
six  years'  woods  experience  had  never  been  to  church. 
Mow  he  looked  up  over  the  tops  of  the  pines  to  where 
;he  Pleiades  glittered  faintly  among  the  brighter  stars. 

"  Thanks,  God,"  said  he  briefly. 


Chapter  XXXIX 


JTT^OR  several  days  this  impression  satisfied  him 
rj  completely.  He  discovered,  strangely  enough, 
m  that  his  restlessness  had  left  him,  that  once 
more  he  was  able  to  give  to  his  work  his  former  energy 
and  interest.  It  was  as  though  some  power  had  raised 
its  finger  and  a  storm  had  stilled,  leaving  cairn,  un- 
ruffled skies. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  analyze  this ;  he  did  not  evea 
make  an  effort  to  contemplate  it.  His  critical  faculty 
was  stricken  dumb  and  it  asked  no  questions  of  him. 
At  a  touch  his  entire  life  had  changed.  Reality  or 
vision,  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  something  so  en- 
tirely different  from  anything  his  imagination  or  ex- 
perience had  ever  suggested  to  him,  that  at  first  he 
could  do  no  more  than  permit  passively  its  influences 
to  adjust  themselves  to  his  being. 

Curiosity,  speculation,  longing, — all  the  more  active 
emotions  remained  in  abeyance  while  outwardly,  for 
three  days,  Harry  Thorpe  occupied  himself  only  with 
the  needs  of  the  Fighting  Forty  at  Camp  One. 

In  the  early  morning  he  went  out  with  the  gang. 
While  they  chopped  or  heaved,  he  stood  by  serene. 
Little  questions  of  expediency  he  solved.  Dilemmas 
he  discussed  leisurely  with  Tim  Shearer.  Occasion- 
ally he  lent  a  shoulder  when  the  peaveys  lacked  of  pry- 
ing a  stubborn  log  from  its  bed.  Not  once  did  he 
glance  at  the  nooning  sun.  His  patience  was  quiet 
and  sure.  When  evening  came  he  smoked  placidly 
outside  the  office,  listening  to  the  conversation  and 
laughter  of  the  men,  caressing  one  of  the  beagles,  while 

276 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  277 

the  rest  slumbered  about  his  feet,  watching  dreamily 
the  night  shadows  and  the  bats.  At  about  nine  o'clock 
he  went  to  bed,  and  slept  soundly.  He  was  vaguely 
conscious  of  a  great  peace  within  him,  a  great  stillness 
of  the  spirit,  against  which  the  metallic  events  of  his 
craft  clicked  sharply  in  vivid  relief.  It  was  the  peace 
and  stillness  of  a  river  before  it  leaps. 

Little  by  little  the  condition  changed.  The  man  felt 
vague  stirrings  of  curiosity.  He  speculated  aimlessly 
as  to  whether  or  not  the  glade,  the  moonlight,  the  girl, 
had  been  real  or  merely  the  figments  of  imagination. 
Almost  immediately  the  answer  leaped  at  him  from 
his  heart.  Since  she  was  so  certainly  flesh  and  blood, 
whence  did  she  come?  what  was  she  doing  there  in 
the  wilderness  ?  His  mind  pushed  the  query  aside  as 
unimportant,  rushing  eagerly  to  the  essential  point: 
When  could  he  see  her  again?  How  find  for  the 
second  time  the  vision  before  which  his  heart  felt  the 
instant  need  of  prostrating  itself.  His  placidity  had 
gone.  That  morning  he  made  some  vague  excuse  to 
Shearer  and  set  out  blindly  down  the  river. 

He  did  not  know  where  he  was  going,  any  more 
than  did  the  bull  moose  plunging  through  the  trackless 
wilderness  to  his  mate.  Instinct,  the  instinct  of  all 
wild  natural  creatures,  led  him.  And  so,  without 
thought,  without  clear  intention  even,  —  most  would 
say  by  accident,  —  he  saw  her  again.  It  was  near  the 
"  pole  trail " ;  which  was  less  like  a  trail  than  a  rail- 
fence. 

For  when  the  snows  are  deep  and  snowshoes  not  the 
property  of  every  man  who  cares  to  journey,  the  old- 
fashioned  "  pole  trail  "  comes  into  use.  It  is  merely 
a  series  of  horses  built  of  timber  across  which  thick 
Norway  logs  are  laid,  about  four  feet  from  the  ground, 
to  form  a  continuous  pathway.  A  man  must  be  a 
tight-rope  walker  to  stick  to  the  pole  trail  when  ice 
and  snow  have  sheathed  its  logs.  If  he  makes  a  mis- 


278  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

step,  he  is  precipitated  ludicrously  into  feathery 
depths  through  which  he  must  flounder  to  the  nearest 
timber  horse  before  he  can  remount.  In  summer,  as 
has  been  said,  it  resembles  nothing  so  much  as  a  thick 
one-rail  fence  of  considerable  height,  around  which  a 
fringe  of  light  brush  has  grown. 

Thorpe  reached  the  fringe  of  bushes,  and  was  about 
to  dodge  under  the  fence,  when  he  saw  her.  So  he 
stopped  short,  concealed  by  the  leaves  and  the  timber 
V>rse. 

She  stood  on  a  knoll  in  the  middle  of  a  grove  of 
monster  pines.  There  was  something  of  the  cathedral 
in  the  spot.  A  hush  dwelt  in  the  dusk,  the  long  col- 
umns lifted  grandly  to  the  Roman  arches  of  the  frond, 
faint  murmurings  stole  here  and  there  like  whispering 
acolytes.  The  girl  stood  tall  and  straight  among  the 
tall,  straight  pines  like  a  figure  on  an  ancient  tapestry. 
She  was  doing  nothing  —  just  standing  there  —  but 
the  awe  of  the  forest  was  in  her  wide,  clear  eyes. 

The  great  sweet  feeling  clutched  the  young  man's 
throat  again.  But  while  the  other,  —  the  vision  of  the 
frost-work  glade  and  the  spirit-like  figure  of  silence  — , 
had  been  unreal  and  phantasmagoric,  this  was  of  the 
earth.  He  looked,  and  looked,  and  looked  again.  He 
saw  the  full  pure  curve  of  her  cheek's  contour,  neither 
oval  nor  round,  but  like  the  outline  of  a  certain  kind 
of  plum.  He  appreciated  the  half-pathetic  downward 
droop  of  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  —  her  red  mouth 
in  dazzling,  bewitching  contrast  to  the  milk-\Yhiteness 
of  her  skin.  He  caught  the  fineness  of  her  nose, 
straight  as  a  Grecian's,  but  with  some  faint  suggestion 
about  the  nostrils  that  hinted  at  piquance.  And  the 
waving  corn  silk  of  her  altogether  charming  and  un- 
ruly hair,  the  superb  column  of  her  long  neck  on  which 
her  little  head  poised  proudly  like  a  flower,  her  sup- 
ple body,  whose  curves  had  the  long  undulating  grace 
of  the  current  in  a  swift  river,  her  slender  white  hand 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  279 

with  the  pointed  fingers  —  all  these  he  saw  one  after 
the  other,  an^<  his  soul  shouted  within  him  at  the  sight. 
He  wrestled  with  the  emotions  that  choked  him. 
"  Ah,  God !  Ah,  God !  "  he  cried  softly  to  himself  like 
one  in  pain.  He,  the  man  of  iron  frame,  of  iron  nerve, 
hardened  by  a  hundred  emergencies,  trembled  in  every 
muscle  before  a  straight,  slender  girl,  clad  all  in  brown, 
standing  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  ancient  forest. 

In  a  moment  she  stirred  slightly,  and  turned. 
Drawing  herself  to  her  full  height,  she  extended  her 
hands  over  her  head  palm  outward,  and,  with  an  inde- 
scribably graceful  gesture,  half  mockingly  bowed  a 
ceremonious  adieu  to  the  solemn  trees.  Then  with  a 
little  laugh  she  moved  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
river. 

At  once  Thorpe  proved  a  great  need  of  seeing  her 
again.  In  his  present  mood  there  was  nothing  of  the 
awe-stricken  peace  he  had  experienced  after  the  moon- 
light adventure.  He  wanted  the  sight  of  her  as  he 
had  never  wanted  anything  before.  He  must  have  it, 
and  he  looked  about  him  fiercely  as  though  to  chal- 
lenge any  force  in  Heaven  or  Hell  that  would  deprive 
him  of  it.  His  eyes  desired  to  follow  the  soft  white 
curve  of  her  cheek,  to  dance  with  the  light  of  her  corn- 
silk  hair,  to  delight  in  the  poetic  movements  of  her 
tall,  slim  body,  to  trace  the  full  outline  of  her  chin,  to 
wonder  at  the  carmine  of  her  lips,  red  as  a  blood-spot 
on  the  snow.  These  things  must  be  at  once.  The 
strong  man  desired  it.  And  finding  it  impossible,  he 
raged  inwardly  and  tore  the  tranquillities  of  his  heart, 
as  on  the  shores  of  the  distant  Lake  of  Stars,  the  bull- 
moose  trampled  down  the  bushes  in  his  passion. 

So  it  happened  that  he  ate  hardly  at  all  that  day,  and 
slept  ill,  and  discovered  the  greatest  difficulty  in  pre- 
serving the  outward  semblance  of  ease  which  the  pres- 
ence of  Tim  Shearer  and  the  Fighting  Forty  de» 
manded. 


280  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

And  next  day  he  saw  her  again,  and  the  next,  be- 
cause the  need  of  his  heart  demanded  it,  and  because, 
simply  enough,  she  came  every  afternoon  to  the  clump 
of  pines  by  the  old  pole  trail. 

Now  had  Thorpe  taken  the  trouble  to  inquire,  he 
could  have  learned  easily  enough  all  there  was  to  be 
known  of  the  affair.  But  he  did  not  take  the  trouble. 
His  consciousness  was  receiving  too  many  new  im- 
pressions, so  that  in  a  manner  it  became  bewildered. 
At  first,  as  has  been  seen,  the  mere  effect  of  the  vision 
was  enough ;  then  the  sight  of  the  girl  sufficed  him. 
But  now  curiosity  awoke  and  a  desire  for  something 
more.  He  must  speak  to  her,  touch  her  hand,  look 
into  her  eyes.  He  resolved  to  approach  her,  and  the 
mere  thought  choked  him  and  sent  him  weak. 

When  he  saw  her  again  from  the  shelter  of  the  pole 
trail,  he  dared  not,  and  so  stood  there  prey  to  a  novel 
sensation,  —  that  of  being  baffled  in  an  intention.  It 
awoke  within  him  a  vast  passion  compounded  part  of 
rage  at  himself,  part  of  longing  for  that  which  he  could 
not  take,  but  most  of  love  for  the  girl.  As  he  hesi- 
tated in  one  mind  but  in  two  decisions,  he  saw  that  she 
was  walking  slowly  in  his  direction. 

Perhaps  a  hundred  paces  separated  the  two.  She 
took  them  deliberately,  pausing  now  and  again  to  lis- 
ten, to  pluck  a  leaf,  to  smell  the  fragrant  balsam  and 
fir  tops  as  she  passed  them.  Her  progression  was  a 
series  of  poses,  the  one  of  which  melted  imperceptibly 
into  the  other  without  appreciable  pause  of  transition. 
So  subtly  did  her  grace  appeal  to  the  sense  of  sight, 
that  out  of  mere  sympathy  the  other  senses  responded 
with  fictions  of  their  own.  Almost  could  the  young 
man  behind  the  trail  savor  a  faint  fragrance,  a  faint 
music  that  surrounded  and  preceded  her  like  the 
shadows  of  phantoms.  He  knew  it  as  an  illusion, 
born  ot  his  desire,  and  yet  it  was  a  noble  illusion,  for  it 
had  its  origin  in  her. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  281 

In  a  moment  she  had  reached  the  fringe  of  brush 
about  the  pole  trail.  They  stood  face  to  face. 

She  gave  a  little  start  of  surprise,  and  her  hand 
leaped  to  her  breast,  where  it  caught  and  stayed.  Her 
childlike  down-drooping  mouth  parted  a  little  more, 
and  the  breath  quickened  through  it.  But  her  eyes, 
her  wide,  trusting,  innocent  eyes,  sought  his  and 
rested. 

He  did  not  move.  The  eagerness,  the  desire,  the 
long  years  of  ceaseless  struggle,  the  thirst  for  affec- 
tion, the  sob  of  awe  at  the  moonlit  glade,  the  love,  — 
all  these  flamed  in  his  eyes  and  fixed  his  gaze  in  an 
unconscious  ardor  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  con- 
vention or  timidity.  One  on  either  side  of  the  spike- 
marked  old  Norway  log  of  the  trail  they  stood,  and 
for  an  appreciable  interval  the  duel  of  their  glances 
lasted,  —  he  masterful,  passionate,  exigent ;  she  proud, 
cool,  defensive  in  the  aloofness  of  her  beauty.  Then 
at  last  his  prevailed.  A  faint  color  rose  from  her  neck, 
deepened,  and  spread  over  her  face  and  forehead.  In 
a  moment  she  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  stare  a  little  rudely  —  Mr. 
Thorpe  ?  "  she  asked. 


Chapter  XL 


rHE  vision  was  over,  but  the  beauty  remained. 
The  spoken  words  of  protest  made  her  a 
woman.  Never  again  would  she,  nor  any 
other  creature  of  the  earth,  appear  to  Thorpe  as  she 
had  in  the  silver  glade  or  the  cloistered  pines.  He 
had  had  his  moment  of  insight.  The  deeps  had  twice 
opened  to  permit  him  to  look  within.  Now  they  had 
closed  again.  But  out  of  them  had  fluttered  a  great 
love  and  the  priestess  of  it.  Always,  so  long  as  life 
should  be  with  him,  Thorpe  was  destined  to  see  in  this 
tall  graceful  girl  with  the  red  lips  and  the  white  skin 
and  the  corn-silk  hair,  more  beauty,  more  of  the  great 
mysterious  spiritual  beauty  which  is  eternal,  than  her 
father  or  her  mother  or  her  dearest  and  best.  For  to 
them  the  vision  had  not  been  vouchsafed,  while  he  had 
seen  her  as  the  highest  symbol  of  God's  splendor. 

Now  she  stood  before  him,  her  head  turned  haU 
away,  a  faint  flush  still  tingeing  the  chalk-white  of  her 
skin,  watching  him  with  a  dim,  half-pleading  smile  in 
expectation  of  his  reply. 

"  Ah,  moon  of  my  soul !  light  of  my  life !  "  he  cried, 
but  he  cried  it  within  him,  though  it  almost  escaped 
his  vigilance  to  his  lips.  What  he  really  said  sounded 
almost  harsh  in  consequence. 

"  How  did  you  know  my  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  planted  both  elbows  on  the  Norway  and  framed 
her  little  face  deliciously  with  her  long  pointed  hands. 

"  If  Mr.  Harry  Thorpe  can  ask  that  question,"  she 
replied,  "  he  is  not  quite  so  impolite  as  I  had  thought 
him." 

282 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  283 

"  If  you  don't  stop  pouting  your  lips,  I  shall  kiss 
them  !  "  cried  Harry  —  to  himself. 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  he  inquired  breathlessly. 

"  Don't  you  know  who  I  am?  "  she  asked  in  re- 
turn. 

"  A  goddess,  a  beautiful  woman ! "  he  answered 
ridiculously  enough. 

She  looked  straight  at  him.  This  time  his  gaze 
dropped. 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  Elizabeth  Carpenter,  who  is  Wal- 
lace Carpenter's  sister,  who  I  believe  is  Mr.  Harry 
Thorpe's  partner." 

She  paused  as  though  for  comment.  The  young 
man  opposite  was  occupied  in  many  other  more  im- 
portant directions.  Some  moments  later  the  words 
trickled  into  his  brain,  and  some  moments  after  that 
he  realized  their  meaning. 

"  We  wrote  Mr.  Harry  Thorpe  that  we  were  about 
to  descend  on  his  district  with  wagons  and  tents  and 
Indians  and  things,  and  asked  him  to  come  and  see 
us." 

"  Ah,  heart  o'  mine,  what  clear,  pure  eyes  she  has ! 
How  they  look  at  a  man  to  drown  his  soul !  " 

Which,  even  had  it  been  spoken,  was  hardly  the 
comment  one  would  have  expected. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  steadily,  then 
smiled.  The  change  of  countenance  brought  Thorpe 
to  himself,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  words  she  had 
spoken  reached  his  comprehension. 

"  But  I  never  received  the  letter.  I'm  so  sorry," 
said  he.  "  It  must  be  at  the  mill.  You  see,  I've  been 
up  in  the  woods  for  nearly  a  month." 

"  Then  we'll  have  to  forgive  you." 

"  But  I  should  think  they  would  have  done  some- 
thing for  you  at  the  mill " 

"  Oh,  we  didn't  come  by  way  of  your  mill.  We 
drove  from  Marquette." 


284  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

"I  see,"  cried  Thorpe,  enlightened.  "But  I'm 
sorry  I  didn't  know.  I'm  sorry  you  didn't  let  me 
know.  I  suppose  you  thought  I  was  still  at  the  mill. 
How  did  you  get  along?  Is  Wallace  with  you?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  dropping  her  hands  and  straight- 
ening her  erect  figure.  "  It's  horrid.  He  was  coming, 
and  then  some  business  came  up  and  he  couldn't  get 
away.  We  are  having  the  loveliest  time  though.  I 
do  adore  the  woods.  Come,"  she  cried  impatiently, 
sweeping  aside  to  leave  a  way  clear,  "  you  shall  meet 
my  friends." 

Thorpe  imagined  she  referred  to  the  rest  of  the  tent- 
ing party.  He  hesitated. 

"  I  am  hardly  in  fit  condition,"  he  objected. 

She  laughed,  parting  her  red  lips.  "  You  are  ex- 
tremely picturesque  just  as  you  are,"  she  said  with 
rather  embarrassing  directness.  "  I  wouldn't  have  you 
any  different  for  the  world.  But  my  friends  don't 
mind.  They  are  used  to  it."  She  laughed  again. 

Thorpe  crossed  the  pole  trail,  and  for  the  first  time 
found  himself  by  her  side.  The  warm  summer  odors 
were  in  the  air,  a  dozen  lively  little  birds  sang  in  the 
brush  along  the  rail,  the  sunlight  danced  and  flickered 
through  the  openings. 

Then  suddenly  they  were  among  the  pines,  and  the 
air  was  cool,  the  vista  dim,  and  the  bird  songs  incon- 
ceivably far  away. 

The  girl  walked  directly  to  the  foot  of  a  pine  three 
feet  through,  and  soaring  up  an  inconceivable  distance 
through  the  still  twilight. 

"  This  is  Jimmy,"  said  she  gravely.  "  He  is  a  dear 
good  old  rough  bear  when  you  don't  know  him,  but 
he  likes  me.  If  you  put  your  ear  close  against  him," 
she  confided,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  "  you  can 
hear  him  talking  to  himself.  This  little  /eJlpw  is 


Tommy.     I  don't  care  so  much  tor  Tommy  because 
he's  sticky.     Still,  I  like  hii 


him  pretty  well,  and  heret 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  285 

Dick,  and  that's  Bob,  and  the  one  just  beyond  is 
Jack." 

"  Where  is  Harry  ?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  I  thought  one  in  a  woods  was  quite  sufficient," 
she  replied  with  the  least  little  air  of  impertinence. 

"  Why  do  you  name  them  such  common,  everyday 
names  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I'll  tell  you.  It's  because  they  are  so  big  and 
grand  themselves,  that  it  did  not  seem  to  me  they  need- 
ed high-sounding  names.  What  do  you  think?"  she 
begged  with  an  appearance  of  the  utmost  anxiety. 

Thorpe  expressed  himself  as  in  agreement.  As  the 
half-quizzical  conversation  progressed,  he  found  their 
relations  adjusting  themselves  with  increasing  rapid- 
ity. He  had  been  successively  the  mystic  devotee  be- 
fore his  vision,  the  worshipper  before  his  goddess ; 
now  he  was  unconsciously  assuming  the  attitude  of 
the  lover  before  his  mistress.  It  needs  always  this 
humanizing  touch  to  render  the  greatest  of  all  pas- 
sions livable. 

And  as  the  human  element  developed,  he  proved  at 
the  same  time  greater  and  greater  difficulty  in  repress- 
ing himself  and  greater  and  greater  fear  of  the  results 
in  case  he  should  not  do  so.  He  trembled  with  the 
desire  to  touch  her  long  slender  hand,  and  as  soon  as 
his  imagination  had  permitted  him  that  much  he  had 
already  crushed  her  to  him  and  had  kissed  passionately 
her  starry  face.  Words  hovered  on  his  lips  longing  for 
flight.  He  withheld  them  by  an  effort  that  left  him 
almost  incoherent,  for  he  feared  with  a  deadly  fear  lest 
he  lose  forever  what  the  vision  had  seemed  to  offer 
to  his  hand. 

So  he  said  little,  and  that  lamely,  for  he  dreaded  to 
say  too  much.  To  her  playful  sallies  he  had  no  riposte. 
And  in  consequence  he  fell  more  silent  with  another 
boding  —  that  he  was  losing  his  cause  outright  for  lack 
of  a  ready  word. 


286  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

He  need  not  have  been  alarmed.  A  woman  in  such 
a  case  hits  as  surely  as  a  man  misses.  Her  very  dain- 
tiness and  preciosity  of  speech  indicated  it.  For 
where  a  man  becomes  stupid  and  silent,  a  woman 
covers  her  emotions  with  words  and  a  clever  speech. 
Not  in  vain  is  a  proud-spirited  girl  stared  down  in  such 
a  contest  of  looks  ;  brave  deeds  simply  told  by  a  friend 
are  potent  to  win  interest  in  advance ;  a  straight,  mus- 
cular figure,  a  brown  skin,  a  clear,  direct  eye,  a  car- 
riage of  power  and  acknowledged  authority,  strike 
hard  at  a  young  imagination ;  a  mighty  passion  sweeps 
aside  the  barriers  of  the  heart.  Such  a  victory,  such  a 
friend,  such  a  passion  had  Thorpe. 

And  so  the  last  spoken  exchange  between  them 
meant  nothing ;  but  if  each  could  have  read  the  unsaid 
words  that  quivered  on  the  other's  heart,  Thorpe 
would  have  returned  to  the  Fighting  Forty  more  tran- 
quilly, while  she  would  probably  not  have  returned  to 
the  camping  party  at  all  for  a  number  of  hours. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  had  better  come  with  me,"  she 
said.  "  Make  your  call  and  be  forgiven  on  your  own 
account.  I  don't  want  to  drag  you  in  at  my  chariot 
wheels." 

"  All  right.  I'll  come  this  afternoon,"  Thorpe  had 
replied. 

"  I  love  her,  I  must  have  her.  I  must  go  —  at 
once,"  his  soul  had  cried,  "  quick  —  now  —  before  I 
kiss  her!  " 

"  How  strong  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  how 
brave-looking ;  how  honest !  He  is  different  from  the 
other  men.  He  is  magnificent." 


Chapter  XLI 


rHAT  afternoon  Thorpe  met  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  party,  offered  his  apologies  and  ex- 
planations, and  was  graciously  forgiven.  He 
found  the  personnel  to  consist  of,  first  of  all,  Mrs. 
Gary,  the  chaperone,  a  very  young  married  woman  of 
twenty-two  or  thereabouts;  her  husband,  a  youth  of 
three  years  older,  clean-shaven,  light-haired,  quiet- 
mannered  ;  Mis?  Elizabeth  Carpenter,  who  resembled 
her  brotner  in  the  characteristics  of  good-looks,  viva- 
cious disposition  and  curly  hair;  an  attendant  satellite 
of  the  masculine  persuasion  called  Morton;  and  last 
of  all  the  girl  whom  Thorpe  had  already  so  variously 
encountered  and  whom  he  now  met  as  Miss  Hilda  Far- 
rand.  Besides  these  were  Ginger,  a  squab  negro  built 
to  fit  the  galley  of  a  yacht;  and  three  Indian  guides- 
They  inhabited  tents,  which  made  quite  a  little  en- 
campment. 

Thorpe  was  received  with  enthusiasm.  Wallace 
Carpenter's  stories  of  his  woods  partner,  while  never 
doing  more  than  justice  to  the  truth,  had  been  of  a 
warm  color  tone.  One  and  all  owned  a  lively  curios- 
ity to  see  what  a  real  woodsman  might  be  like.  When 
he  proved  to  be  handsome  and  well  mannered,  as  well 
as  picturesque,  his  reception  was  no  longer  in  doubt. 

Nothing  could  exceed  his  solicitude  as  to  their  com- 
fort and  amusement.  He  inspected  personally  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  tents,  and  suggested  one  or  two 
changes  conducive  to  the  littler  comforts.  This  was 
not  much  like  ordinary  woods-camping.  The  largest 
wall-tent  contained  three  folding  cots  for  the  women, 

28" 


288  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

over  which,  in  the  daytime,  were  flung  bright-colored 
Navajo  blankets.  Another  was  spread  on  the  ground. 
Thorpe  later,  however,  sent  over  two  bear  skins,  which 
were  acknowledgedly  an  improvement.  To  the  tent 
pole  a  mirror  of  size  was  nailed,  and  below  it  stood  a 
portable  washstand.  The  second  tent,  devoted  to  the 
two  men,  was  not  quite  so  luxurious ;  but  still  boasted 
of  little  conveniences  the  true  woodsman  would  never 
tonsider  worth  the  bother  of  transporting.  The  third, 
equally  large,  was  the  dining  tent.  The  other  three, 
smaller,  and  on  the  A  tent  order,  served  respectively 
as  sleeping  rooms  for  Ginger  and  the  Indians,  and  as 
a  general  store-house  for  provisions  and  impedimenta. 

Thorpe  sent  an  Indian  to  Camp  One  for  the  bear- 
skins, put  the  rest  to  digging  a  trench  around  the 
sleeping  tents  in  order  that  a  rain  storm  might  not 
cause  a  flood,  and  ordered  Ginger  to  excavate  a  square 
hole  some  feet  deep  which  he  intended  to  utilize  as  a 
larder. 

Then  he  gave  Morton  and  Gary  hints  as  to  the  deer 
they  wished  to  capture,  pointed  out  the  best  trout 
pools,  and  issued  advice  as  to  the  compassing  of  cer- 
tain blackberries,  not  far  distant. 

Simple  things  enough  they  were  to  do  —  it  was  as 
though  a  city  man  were  to  direct  a  newcomer  to  Cen- 
tral Park,  or  impart  to  him  a  test  for  the  destinations 
of  trolley  lines  —  yet  Thorpe's  new  friends  were  pro- 
foundly impressed  with  his  knowledge  of  occult  things. 
The  forest  was  to  them,  as  to  most,  more  or  less  of  a 
mystery,  unfathomable  except  to  the  favored  of  ge- 
nius. A  man  who  could  interpret  it,  even  a  little,  into 
the  speech  of  everyday  comfort  and  expediency  pos- 
sessed a  strong  claim  to  their  imaginations.  When  he 
had  finished  these  practical  affairs,  they  wanted  him 
to  sit  down  and  tell  them  more  things,  —  to  dine  with 
them,  to  smoke  about  their  camp  fire  in  the  evening. 
But  here  they  encountered  a  decided  check.  Thorpe 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  289 

became  silent,  almost  morose.  He  talked  in  monosyl- 
lables, and  soon  went  away.  They  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  him,  and  so  were,  of  course,  the  more  pro- 
foundly interested.  The  truth  was,  his  habitual  reti- 
cence would  not  have  permitted  a  great  degree  of  ex- 
pansion in  any  case,  but  now  the  presence  of  Hilda 
made  any  but  an  attitude  of  hushed  waiting  for  hei 
words  utterly  impossible  to  him.  He  wished  well  to 
them  all.  If  there  was  anything  he  could  do  for  them, 
he  would  gladly  undertake  it.  But  he  would  not  act 
the  lion  nor  tell  of  his,  to  them,  interesting  adventures. 

However,  when  he  discovered  that  Hilda  had  ceased 
visiting  the  clump  of  pines  near  the  pole  trail,  his  desire 
forced  him  back  among  these  people.  He  used  to 
walk  in  swiftly  at  almost  any  time  of  day,  casting  quick 
glances  here  and  there  in  search  of  his  divinity. 

"  How  do,  Mrs.  Gary,"  he  would  say.  "  Nice 
weather.  Enjoying  yourself  ?  " 

On  receiving  the  reply  he  would  answer  heartily, 
**  That's  good !  "  and  lapse  into  silence.  When  Hilda 
was  about  he  followed  every  movement  of  hers  with 
his  eyes,  so  that  his  strange  conduct  lacked  no  expla- 
nation nor  interpretation,  in  the  minds  of  the  women 
at  least.  Thrice  he  redeemed  his  reputation  for  being 
an  interesting  character  by  conducting  the  party  on 
little  expeditions  here  and  there  about  the  country. 
Then  his  woodcraft  and  resourcefulness  spoke  for  him. 
They  asked  him  about  the  lumbering  operations,  but 
he  seemed  indifferent. 

"  Nothing  to  interest  you,"  he  affirmed.  "  We're 
just  cutting  roads  now.  You  ought  to  be  here  for  the 
drive." 

To  him  there  was  really  nothing  interesting  in  the 
cutting  of  roads  nor  the  clearing  of  streams.  It  was 
all  in  a  day's  work. 

Once  he  took  them  over  to  see  Camp  One.  They 
were  immensely  pleased,  and  were  correspondingly 


2go  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

loud  in  exclamations.  Thorpe's  comments  were  brief 
and  dry.  After  the  noon  dinner  he  had  the  unfortu- 
nate idea  of  commending  the  singing  of  one  of  the 
men. 

"  Oh,  I'd  like  to  hear  him,"  cried  Elizabeth  Carpen- 
:er.  "  Can't  you  get  him  to  sing  for  us,  Mr.  Thorpe  ?  " 

Thorpe  went  to  the  men's  camp,  where  he  singled 
out  the  unfortunate  lumber-jack  in  question. 

"  Come  on,  Archie,"  he  said.  "  The  ladies  want  to 
hear  you  sing." 

The  man  objected,  refused,  pleaded,  and  finally 
obeyed  what  amounted  to  a  command.  Thorpe  re- 
entered  the  office  with  triumph,  his  victim  in  tow. 

"  This  is  Archie  Harris,"  he  announced  heartily. 
44  He's  our  best  singer  just  now.  Take  a  chair, 
Archie." 

The  man  perched  on  the  edge  of  the  chair  and  looked 
straight  out  before  him. 

"  Do  sing  for  us,  won't  you,  Mr.  Harris  ?  "  requested 
Mrs.  Cary  in  her  sweetest  tones. 

The  man  said  nothing,  nor  moved  a  muscle,  but 
turned  a  brick-red.  An  embarrassed  silence  of  expec- 
•ation  ensued. 

"  Hit  her  up,  Archie,"  encouraged  Thorpe. 

"  I  ain't  much  in  practice  no  how,"  objected  the  man 
in  a  little  voice,  without  moving. 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  find  us  very  appreciative,"  said 
Elizabeth  Carpenter. 

"  Give  us  a  song,  Archie,  let  her  go,"  urged  Thorpe 
impatiently. 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  man  very  meekly. 

Another  silence  fell.  It  got  to  be  a  little  awful.  The 
poor  woodsman,  pilloried  before  the  regards  of  this 
polite  circle,  out  of  his  element,  suffering  cruelly, 
nevertheless  made  no  sign  nor  movement  one  way  or 
the  other.  At  last  when  the  situation  had  almost 
reached  the  breaking  point  of  hysteria,  he  began. 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  -491 

His  voice  ordinarily  was  rather  a  good  tenor.  Now 
fie  pitched  it  too  high ;  and  went  on  straining  at  the 
high  notes  to  the  very  end.  Instead  of  offering  one 
of  the  typical  woods  chanteys,  he  conceived  that  before 
so  grand  an  audience  he  should  give  something  fancy. 
He  therefore  struck  into  a  sentimental  song  of  the 
cheap  music-hall  type.  There  were  nine  verses,  ano 
he  drawled  through  them  all,  hanging  whiningly  on 
the  nasal  notes  in  the  fashion  of  the  untrained  singer. 
Instead  of  being  a  performance  typical  of  the  strange 
woods  genius,  it  was  merely  an  atrocious  bit  of  cheap 
sentimentalism,  badly  rendered. 

The  audience  listened  politely.  When  the  song  was 
finished  it  murmured  faint  thanks. 

"  Oh,  give  us  '  Jack  Haggerty,'  Archie,**  urged 
Thorpe. 

But  the  woodsman  rose,  nodded  his  head  awkward- 
ly,  and  made  his  escape.  He  entered  the  men's  camp 
swearing,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  made  none 
but  blasphemous  remarks. 

The  beagles,  however,  were  a  complete  success. 
They  tumbled  about,  and  lolled  their  tongues,  and 
laughed  up  out  of  a  tangle  of  themselves  in  a  fascinat- 
ing manner.  Altogether  the  visit  to  Camp  One  was 
a  success,  the  more  so  in  that  on  the  way  back,  for  the 
first  time,  Thorpe  found  that  chance  —  and  Mrs.  Gary 
—  had  allotted  Hilda  to  his  care. 

A  hundred  yards  down  the  trail  they  encountered 
Phil.  The  dwarf  stopped  short,  looked  attentively  at 
the  girl,  and  then  softly  approached.  When  quite  near 
to  her  he  again  stopped,  gazing  at  her  with  his  sou* 
in  his  liquid  eyes. 

"  You  are  more  beautiful  than  the  sea  at  night/'  he 
said  directly. 

The  others  laughed.  "  There's  sincerity  for  you, 
Miss  Hilda,"  said  young  Mr.  Morton. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  girl  after  they  had  moved 


292  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Our  chore-boy,"  answered  Thorpe  with  great 
brevity,  for  he  was  thinking  of  something  much  more 
important. 

After  the  rest  of  the  party  had  gone  ahead,  leaving 
them  sauntering  more  slowly  down  the  trail,  he  gave 
it  voice. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  to  the  pine  grove  any 
more  ?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 

"  Why  ?  "  countered  Hilda  in  the  manner  of  women. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  there.  I  want  to  talk  with  you. 
I  can't  talk  with  all  that  crowd  around." 

"  I'll  come  to-morrow,"  she  said  —  then  with  a  little 
mischievous  laugh,  "  if  that'll  make  you  talk." 

"  You  must  think  I'm  awfully  stupid,"  agreed 
Thorpe  bitterly. 

"  Ah,  no !  Ah,  no  1 "  she  protested  softly.  "  You 
must  not  say  that." 

She  was  looking  at  him  very  tenderly,  if  he  had  only 
known  it,  but  he  did  not,  for  his  face  was  set  in  discon- 
tented lines  straight  before  him. 

u  It  is  true,"  he  replied. 

They  walked  on  in  silence,  while  gradually  the  dan- 

Eous  fascination  of  the  woods  crept  down  on  them, 
t  before  sunset  a  hush  falls  on  nature.  The  wind 
died,  the  birds  have  not  yet  begun  their  evening 
songs,  the  light  itself  seems  to  have  left  off  sparkling 
and  to  lie  still  across  the  landscape.  Such  a  hush 
now  lay  on  their  spirits.  Over  the  way  a  creeper  was 
droning  sleepily  a  little  chant,  —  the  only  voice  in  the 
wilderness.  In  the  heart  of  the  man,  too,  a  little  voice 
raised  itself  alone. 

"  Sweetheart,  sweetheart,  sweetheart  I  "  it  breathed 
over  and  over  again.  After  a  while  he  said  it  gently 
in  a  half  voice. 

"  No,  no,  hush !  "  said  the  girl,  and  she  laid  the  soft, 
warm  fingers  of  one  hand  across  his  lips,  and  looked 
at  him  from  a  height  of  superior  soft-eyed  tenderness 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  293 

as  a  woman  might  look  at  a  child.  "  You  must  not. 
It  is  not  right." 

Then  he  kissed  the  fingers  very  gently  before  they 
were  withdrawn,  and  she  said  nothing  at  all  in  rebuke, 
but  looked  straight  before  her  with  troubled  eyes. 

The  voices  of  evening  began  to  raise  their  jubilant 
notes.  From  a  tree  nearby  the  olive  thrush  sang  like 
clockwork;  over  beyond  carolled  eagerly  a  black- 
throat,  a  myrtle  warbler,  a  dozen  song  sparrows,  and 
a  hundred  vireos  and  creepers.  Down  deep  in  the 
blackness  of  the  ancient  woods  a  hermit  thrush  uttered 
his  solemn  bell  note,  like  the  tolling  of  the  spirit  of 
peace.  And  in  Thorpe's  heart  a  thousand  tumultuous 
voices  that  had  suddenly  roused  to  clamor,  died  into 
nothingness  at  the  music  of  her  softly  protesting  voice. 


Chapter  XLII 


rHORPE  returned  to  Camp  One  shortly  after 
dark.  He  found  there  Scotty  Parsons,  who 
had  come  up  to  take  charge  of  the  crew  en- 
gaged in  clearing  French  Creek.  The  man  brought 
him  a  number  of  letters  sent  on  by  Collins,  among 
which  was  one  from  Wallace  Carpenter. 

After  commending  the  camping  party  to  his  com- 
panion's care,  and  giving  minute  directions  as  to  how 
and  where  to  meet  it,  the  young  fellow  went  on  to  say 
that  affairs  were  going  badly  on  the  Board. 

"  Some  interest  that  I  haven't  been  able  to  make  out 
yet  has  been  hammering  our  stocks  down  day  after 
day,"  he  wrote.  "  I  don't  understand  it,  for  the  stocks 
are  good  —  they  rest  on  a  solid  foundation  of  value  — 
and  intrinsically  are  worth  more  than  is  bid  for  them 
right  now.  Some  powerful  concern  is  beating  them 
down  for  a  purpose  of  its  own.  Sooner  or  later  they 
will  let  up,  and  then  we'll  get  things  back  in  good 
shape.  I  am  amply  protected  now,  thanks  to  you,  and 
ani  not  at  all  afraid  of  losing  my  holdings.  The  only 
difficulty  is  that  I  am  unable  to  predict  exactly  when 
the  other  fellows  will  decide  that  they  have  accom- 
plished whatever  they  are  about,  and  let  up.  It  may 
not  be  before  next  year.  In  that  case  I  couldn't  help 
you  out  on  those,  notes  when  they  come  due.  So  put 
in  your  best  licks,  old  man.  You  may  have  to  pony 
up  for  a  little  while,  though  of  course  sooner  or  later 
I  can  put  it  all  back.  Then,  you  bet  your  life,  I  keep 
out  of  it.  Lumbering's  good  enough  for  yours  truly. 

"  By  the  way,  you  might  shine  up  to  Hilda  Farrand 
294 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  295 

and  join  the  rest  of  the  fortune-hunters.  She's  got  it 
to  throw  to  the  birds,  and  in  her  own  right.  Seriously, 
old  fellow,  don't  put  yourself  into  a  false  position 
through  ignorance.  Not  that  there  is  any  danger  to 
a  hardened  old  woodsman  like  you." 

Thorpe  went  to  the  group  of  pines  by  the  pole  trail 
the  following  afternoon  because  he  had  said  he  would, 
but  with  a  new  attitude  of  mind.  He  had  come  into 
contact  with  the  artificiality  of  conventional  relations, 
and  it  stiffened  him.  No  wonder  she  had  made  him 
keep  silence  the  afternoon  before!  She  had  done  it 
gently  and  nicely,  to  be  sure,  but  that  was  part  of  her 
good-breeding.  Hilda  found  him  formal,  reserved, 
polite ;  and  marvelled  at  it.  In  her  was  no  coquetry. 
She  was  as  straightforward  and  sincere  as  the  look  of 
her  eyes. 

They  sat  down  on  a  log.  Hilda  turned  to  him  with 
her  graceful  air  of  confidence. 

"  Now  talk  to  me,"  said  she. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Thorpe  in  a  practical  tone  of 
voice,  "  what  do  you  want  me  to  talk  about  ?  " 

She  shot  a  swift,  troubled  glance  at  him,  concluded 
herself  mistaken,  and  said : 

"  Tell  me  about  what  you  do  up  here  —  your  life  — 
all  about  it." 

"  Well  — "  replied  Thorpe  formally,  "  we  haven't 

'.much  to  interest  a  girl  like  you.     It  is  a  question  of 

saw  logs  with  us  "  —  and  he  went  on  in  his  dryest,  most 

technical  manner  to  detail  the  process  of  manufacture. 

It  might  as  well  have  been  bricks. 

The  girl  did  not  understand.  She  was  hurt.  At 
surely  as  the  sun  tangled  in  the  distant  pine  frond,  she 
had  seen  in  his  eyes  a  great  passion.  Now  it  was 
coldly  withdrawn. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  "  she  asked  finally  out 
of  her  great  sincerity. 

"  Me  ?    Nothing,"  replied  Thorpe. 


296  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

A  forced  silence  fell  upon  him.  Hilda  seemed  grad- 
ually to  lose  herself  in  reverie.  After  a  time  she  said 
softly. 

"  Don't  you  love  this  woods  ?  " 

"  It's  an  excellent  bunch  of  pine,"  replied  Thorpe 
bluntly.  "  It'll  cut  three  million  at  least." 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried  drawing  back,  her  hands  pressed 
against  the  log  either  side  of  her,  her  eyes  wide. 

After  a  moment  she  caught  her  breath  convulsively, 
and  Thorpe  became  conscious  that  she  was  studying 
him  furtively  with  a  quickening  doubt. 

After  that,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  there  was  no  more 
talk  between  them.  She  was  too  hurt  and  shocked 
and  disillusioned  to  make  the  necessary  effort  to  go 
away.  He  was  too  proud  to  put  an  end  to  the  posi- 
tion. They  sat  there  apparently  absorbed  in  thought, 
while  all  about  them  the  accustomed  life  of  the  woods 
drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  them,  as  the  splash  of  their 
entrance  into  it  died  away. 

A  red  squirrel  poised  thirty  feet  above  them,  leaped, 
and  clung  swaying  to  a  sapling-top  a  dozen  yards  from 
the  tree  he  had  quitted.  Two  chickadees  upside  down 
uttering  liquid  undertones,  searched  busily  for  insects 
next  their  heads.  Wilson's  warblers,  pine  creepers, 
black-throats,  myrtle  and  magnolia  warblers,  oven 
birds,  peewits,  blue  jays,  purple  finches,  passed  silently 
or  noisily,  each  according  to  his  kind.  Once  a  lone 
spruce  hen  dusted  herself  in  a  stray  patch  of  sunlight 
until  it  shimmered  on  a  tree  trunk,  raised  upward,  and 
disappeared,  to  give  place  to  long  level  dusty  shafts 
that  shot  here  and  there  through  the  pines  laying  the 
spell  of  sunset  on  the  noisy  woods  brawlers. 

Unconsciously  the  first  strain  of  opposition  and  of 
hurt  surprise  had  relaxed.  Each  thought  vaguely  his 
thoughts.  Then  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  perhaps 
near  at  hand,  perhaps  far  away,  a  single  hermit  thrush 
began  to  sing.  His  song  was  of  three  solemn  deep 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  297 

liquid  notes ;  followed  by  a  slight  rhetorical  pause  as 
of  contemplation ;  and  then,  deliberately,  three  notes 
more  on  a  different  key  —  and  so  on  without  haste  and 
without  pause.  It  is  the  most  dignified,  the  most  spir- 
itual, the  holiest  of  woods  utterances.  Combined  with 
the  evening  shadows  and  the  warm  soft  air,  it  offered 
to  the  heart  an  almost  irresistible  appeal.  The  man's 
artificial  antagonism  modified;  the  woman's  disen- 
chantment began  to  seem  unreal. 

Then  subtly  over  and  through  the  bird-song  another 
sound  became  audible.  At  first  it  merely  repeated  the 
three  notes  faintly,  like  an  echo,  but  with  a  rich,  sad 
undertone  that  brought  tears.  Then,  timidly  and  still 
softly,  it  elaborated  the  theme,  weaving  in  and  out 
through  the  original  three  the  glitter  and  shimmer  of 
a  splendid  web  of  sound,  spreading  before  the  awak- 
ened imagination  a  broad  river  of  woods-imagery  that 
reflected  on  its  surface  all  the  subtler  moods  of  the 
forest.  The  pine  shadows,  the  calls  of  the  wild  creat- 
ures, the  flow  of  the  brook,  the  splashes  of  sunlight 
through  the  trees,  the  sigh  of  the  wind,  the  shout  of 
the  rapid,  —  all  these  were  there,  distinctly  to  be  felt 
in  their  most  ethereal  and  beautiful  forms.  And  yet 
it  was  all  slight  and  tenuous  as  though  the  crack  of  a 
twig  would  break  it  through  —  so  that  over  it  contin- 
ually like  a  grand  full  organ-tone  repeated  the  notes 
of  the  bird  itself. 

With  the  first  sigh  of  the  wonder-music  the  girl  had 
started  and  caught  her  breath  in  the  exquisite  pleasure 
of  it.  As  it  went  on  they  both  forgot  everything  but 
the  harmony  and  each  other. 

"  Ah,  beautiful ! "  she  murmured. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  whispered  marvelling. 

"  A  violin,  —  played  by  a  master." 

The  bird  suddenly  hushed,  and  at  once  the  strata 
abandoned  the  woods-note  and  took  another  motif. 
At  first  it  played  softly  in  the  higher  notes,  a  tinkling 


298  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

lightsome  little  melody  that  stirred  a  kindly  surface- 
smile  over  a  full  heart.  Then  suddenly,  without  tran- 
sition, it  dropped  to  the  lower  register,  and  began  to 
sob  and  wail  in  the  full  vibrating  power  of  a  great 
passion. 

And  the  theme  it  treated  was  love.  It  spoke  sol- 
emnly, fearfully  of  the  greatness  of  it,  the  glory. 
These  as  abstractions  it  amplified  in  fine  full-breathed 
chords  that  swept  the  spirit  up  and  up  as  on  the  waves 
of  a  mighty  organ.  Then  one  by  one  the  voices  of 
other  things  were  heard, — the  tinkling  of  laughter,  the 
roar  of  a  city,  the  sob  of  a  grief,  a  cry  of  pain  suddenly 
shooting  across  the  sound,  the  clank  of  a  machine,  the 
tumult  of  a  river,  the  puff  of  a  steamboat,  the  murmur- 
ing of  a  vast  crowd,  —  and  one  by  one,  without  seem- 
ing in  the  least  to  change  their  character,  they  merged 
imperceptibly  into,  and  were  part  of  the  grand- 
breathed  chords,  so  that  at  last  all  the  fames  and  ambi- 
tions and  passions  of  the  world  came,  in  their  apoth- 
eosis, to  be  only  parts  of  the  master-passion  of  them 
all 

And  while  the  echoes  of  the  greater  glory  still  swept 
beneath  th«ir  uplifted  souls  like  ebbing  waves,  so  that 
they  still  sat  rigid  and  staring  with  the  majesty  of  it, 
the  violin  softly  began  to  whisper.  Beautiful  it  was  as 
a  spirit,  beautiful  beyond  words,  beautiful  beyond 
thought.  Its  beauty  struck  sharp  at  the  heart.  And 
they  two  sat  there  hand  in  hand  dreaming  —  dreaming 
—  dreaming 

At  last  the  poignant  ecstasy  seemed  slowly,  slowly 
to  die.  Fainter  and  fainter  ebbed  the  music.  Through 
it  as  through  a  mist  the  solemn  aloof  forest  began  to 
show  to  the  consciousness  of  the  two.  They  sought 
each  other's  eyes  gently  smiling.  The  music  was  very 
soft  and  dim  and  sad.  They  leaned  to  each  other  with 
a  sob.  Their  lips  met.  The  music  ceased. 

Alone  in  the  forest  side  by  side  they  looked  out  to- 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  299 

gether  for  a  moment  into  that  eternal  vision  which 
lovers  only  are  permitted  to  see.  The  shadows  fell. 
About  them  brooded  the  inscrutable  pines  stretching 
a  canopy  over  them  enthroned.  A  single  last  shaft 
of  the  sun  struck  full  upon  them,  a  single  light-spot 
in  the  gathering  gloom.  They  were  beautiful. 

And  over  behind  the  trees,  out  of  the  light  and  the 
love  and  the  beauty,  little  Phil  huddled,  his  great 
shaggy  head  bowed  in  his  arms.  Beside  him  lay  his 
violin,  and  beside  that  his  bow,  broken.  He  had 
snapped  it  across  his  knee.  That  day  he  had  heard 
at  last  the  Heart  Song  of  the  Violin,  and  uttering  it, 
had  bestowed  love.  But  in  accordance  with  his  proph- 
ecy he  had  that  day  lost  what  he  cared  for  most  in  all 
the  world,  his  friend. 


Chapter   XLIII 


rHAT  was  the  moon  of  delight.  The  days 
passed  through  the  hazy  forest  like  stately  fig- 
ures from  an  old  masque.  In  the  pine  grove 
on  the  knoll  the  man  and  the  woman  had  erected  a 
temple  to  love,  and  love  showed  them  one  to  the  other. 
In  Hilda  Farrand  was  no  guile,  no  coquetry,  no  de- 
ceit. So  perfect  was  her  naturalism  that  often  by  those 
who  knew  her  least  she  was  considered  affected.  Her 
trust  in  whomever  she  found  herself  with  attained  so 
directly  its  reward ;  her  unconsciousness  of  pose  was 
so  rhythmically  graceful;  her  ignorance  and  innocence 
so  triumphantly  effective,  that  the  mind  with  difficulty 
rid  itself  of  the  belief  that  it  was  all  carefully  studied. 
This  was  not  true.  She  honestly  did  not  know  that 
she  was  beautiful ;  was  unaware  of  her  grace ;  did  not 
realize  the  potency  of  her  wealth. 

This  absolute  lack  of  self-consciousness  was  most 
potent  in  overcoming  Thorpe's  natural  reticence.  He 
expanded  to  her.  She  came  to  idolize  him  in  a  man- 
ner at  once  inspiring  and  touching  in  so  beautiful  a 
creature.  In  him  she  saw  reflected  all  the  lofty  at- 
tractions of  character  which  she  herself  possessed,  but 
of  which  she  was  entirely  unaware.  Through  his 
words  she  saw  to  an  ideal.  His  most  trivial  actions 
were  ascribed  to  motives  of  a  dignity  which  would 
have  been  ridiculous,  if  it  had  not  been  a  little  pathetic. 
The  woods-life,  the  striving  of  the  pioneer  kindled  her 
imagination.  She  seized  upon  the  great  facts  of  them 
and  fitted  those  facts  with  reasons  of  her  own.  Her 
insight  perceived  the  adventurous  spirit,  the  battle- 

300 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  301 

courage,  the  indomitable  steadfastness  which  always 
in  reality  lie  back  of  these  men  of  the  frontier  to  urge 
them  into  the  life ;  and  of  them  constructed  conscious 
motives  of  conduct.  To  her  fancy  the  lumbermen,  of 
whom  Thorpe  was  one,  were  self-conscious  agents  of 
advance.  They  chose  hardship,  loneliness,  the  stren- 
uous life  because  they  wished  to  clear  the  way  for  a 
higher  civilization.  To  her  it  seemed  a  great  and 
noble  sacrifice.  She  did  not  perceive  that  while  all 
this  is  true,  it  is  under  the  surface,  the  real  spur  is  a 
desire  to  get  on,  and  a  hope  of  making  money.  For, 
strangely  enough,  she  differentiated  sharply  the  life 
and  the  reasons  for  it.  An  existence  in  subduing  the 
forest  was  to  her  ideal;  the  making  of  a  fortune 
through  a  lumbering  firm  she  did  not  consider  in  the 
least  important.  That  this  distinction  was  most  po- 
tent, the  sequel  will  show. 

In  all  of  it  she  was  absolutely  sincere,  and  not  at  all 
stupid.  She  had  always  had  all  she  could  spend,  with- 
out question.  Money  meant  nothing  to  her,  one  way 
or  the  other.  If  need  was,  she  might  have  experi- 
enced some  difficulty  in  learning  how  to  economize, 
but  none  at  all  in  adjusting  herself  to  the  necessity  of 
it.  The  material  had  become,  in  all  sincerity,  a  basis 
for  the  spiritual.  She  recognized  but  two  sorts  of  mo- 
tives ;  of  which  the  ideal,  comprising  the  poetic,  the 
daring,  the  beautiful,  were  good;  and  the  material, 
meaning  the  sordid  and  selfish,  were  bad.  With  her 
the  mere  money-getting  would  have  to  be  allied  with 
some  great  and  poetic  excuse. 

That  is  the  only  sort  of  aristocracy,  in  the  popular 
sense  of  the  word,  which  is  real;  the  only  scorn  of 
money  which  can  be  respected. 

There  are  some  faces  which  symbolize  to  the  be- 
holder many  subtleties  of  soul-beauty  which  bj  no 
other  method  could  gain  expression.  Those  subtle- 
ties may  not,  probably  do  not,  exist  in  the  possessor 


302  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

of  the  face.  The  power  of  such  a  countenance  lies 
not  so  much  in  what  it  actually  represents,  as  in  the 
suggestion  it  holds  out  to  another.  So  often  it  is  with 
a  beautiful  character.  Analyze  it  carefully,  and  you 
will  reduce  it  generally  to  absolute  simplicity  and  ab- 
solute purity  —  two  elements  common  enough  in  adul- 
teration ;  but  place  it  face  to  face  with  a  more  complex 
personality,  and  mirror-like  it  will  take  on  a  hundred 
delicate  shades  of  ethical  beauty,  while  at  the  same 
time  preserving  its  own  lofty  spirituality. 

Thus  Hilda  Farrand  reflected  Thorpe.  In  the  clear 
mirror  of  her  heart  his  image  rested  transfigured.  It 
was  as  though  the  glass  were  magic,  so  that  the  gross 
and  material  was  absorbed  and  lost,  while  the  more 
spiritual  qualities  reflected  back.  So  the  image  was 
retained  in  its  entirety,  but  etherealized,  refined.  It 
is  necessary  to  attempt,  even  thus  faintly  and  inade- 
quately, a  sketch  of  Hilda's  love,  for  a  partial  under- 
standing of  it  is  necessary  to  the  comprehension  of 
•what  followed  the  moon  of  delight. 

That  moon  saw  a  variety  of  changes. 

The  bed  of  French  Creek  was  cleared.  Three  of  the 
roads  were  finished,  and  the  last  begun.  So  much  for 
the  work  of  it. 

Morton  and  Gary  shot  four  deer  between  them, 
which  \ras  unpardonably  against  the  law,  caught  fish 
in  plenty,  smoked  two  and  a  half  pounds  of  tobacco, 
and  read  half  of  one  novel.  Mrs.  Gary  and  Miss  Car- 
penter walked  a  total  of  over  a  hundred  miles,  bought 
twelve  pounds  of  Indian  work  of  all  sorts,  embroidered 
the  circle  of  two  embroidery  frames,  learned  to  paddle 
a  birch-bark  canoe,  picked  fifteen  quarts  of  berries,  and 
gained  six  pounds  in  weight.  All  the  party  together 
accomplished  five  picnics,  four  explorations,  and  thirty 
excellent  campfires  in  the  evening.  So  much  for  the 
fun  of  it. 

Little  Phil  disappeared  utterly,  taking  with  him  his 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  303 

violin,  but  leaving  his  broken  bow.  Thorpe  has  it 
even  to  this  day.  The  lumberman  caused  search  and 
inquiry  on  all  sides.  The  cripple  was  never  heard  of 
again.  He  had  lived  his  brief  hour,  taken  his  subtle 
artist's  vengeance  of  misplayed  notes  on  the  crude  ap- 
preciation of  men  too  coarse-fibered  to  recognize  it, 
brought  together  by  the  might  of  sacrifice  and  con- 
summate genius  two  hearts  on  the  brink  of  misunder- 
standing ;  —  now  there  was  no  further  need  for  him, 
he  had  gone.  So  much  for  the  tragedy  of  it. 

"  I  saw  you  long  ago,"  said  Hilda  to  Thorpe. 
"  Long,  long  ago,  when  I  was  quite  a  young  girl.  I 
had  been  visiting  in  Detroit,  and  was  on  my  way  all 
alone  to  catch  an  early  train.  You  stood  on  the  cor- 
ner thinking,  tall  and  straight  and  brown,  with  a 
weatherbeaten  old  hat  and  a  weatherbeaten  old  coat 
and  weatherbeaten  old  moccasins,  and  such  a  proud, 
clear,  undaunted  look  on  your  face.  I  1  ive  remem- 
bered you  ever  since." 

And  then  he  told  her  of  the  race  to  the  Land  Office, 
while  her  eyes  grew  brighter  and  brighter  with  the 
epic  splendor  of  the  story.  She  told  him  that  she  had 
loved  him  from  that  moment  —  and  believed  her  tell- 
ing; while  he,  the  unsentimental  leader  of  men,  per- 
suaded himself  and  her  that  he  had  always  in  some 
mysterious  manner  carried  her  image  prophetically  in 
his  heart.  So  much  for  the  love  of  it. 

In  the  last  days  of  the  month  of  delight  Thorpe  re- 
ceived a  second  letter  from  his  partner,  which  to  some 
extent  awakened  him  to  the  realities. 

"  My  dear  Harry,"  it  ran.  "  I  have  made  a  startling 
discovery.  The  other  fellow  is  Morrison.  I  have 
been  a  blind,  stupid  dolt,  and  am  caught  nicely.  You 
can't  call  me  any  more  names  than  I  have  already 
called  myself.  Morrison  has  been  in  it  from  the  start. 
By  an  accident  I  learned  he  was  behind  the  fellow  who 
induced  me  to  invest,  and  it  is  he  who  has  been  ham- 


304  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

mering  the  stock  down  ever  since.  They  couldn't  lick 
you  at  your  game,  so  they  tackled  me  at  mine.  I'm 
not  the  man  you  are,  Harry,  and  I've  made  a  mess  of 
it.  Of  course  their  scheme  is  plain  enough  on  the 
face  of  it.  They're  going  to  involve  me  so  deeply  that 
I  will  drag  the  firm  down  with  me. 

"  If  you  can  fix  it  to  meet  those  notes,  they  can't 
do  it.  I  have  ample  margin  to  cover  any  more  de- 
clines they  may  be  able  to  bring  about.  Don't  fret 
about  that.  Just  as  sure  as  you  can  pay  that  sixty 
thousand,  just  so  sure  we'll  be  ahead  of  the  game  at 
this  time  next  year.  For  God's  sake  get  a  move  on 
you,  old  man.  If  you  don't  —  good  Lord !  The  firm'll 
bust  because  she  can't  pay;  I'll  bust  because  I'll  have 
to  let  my  stock  go  on  margins  —  it'll  be  an  awful 
smash.  But  you'll  get  there,  so  we  needn't  worry.  I've 
been  an  awful  fool,  and  I've  no  right  to  do  the  getting 
into  trouble  and  leave  you  to  the  hard  work  of  getting 
out  again.  But  as  partner  I'm  going  to  insist  on  your 
having  a  salary  —  etc." 

The  news  aroused  all  Thorpe's  martial  spirit.  Now 
at  last  the  mystery  surrounding  Morrison  &  Daly's 
unnatural  complaisance  was  riven.  It  had  come  to 
grapples  again.  He  was  glad  of  it.  Meet  those  notes  ? 
Well  I  guess  so!  He'd  show  them  what  sort  of  a 
proposition  they  had  tackled.  Sneaking,  underhanded 
scoundrels!  taking  advantage  of  a  mere  boy.  Meet 
those  notes?  You  bet  he  would;  and  then  he'd  go 
down  there  and  boost  those  stocks  until  M.  &  D« 
looked  like  a  last  year's  bird's  nest.  He  thrust  the 
letter  in  his  pocket  and  walked  buoyantly  to  the  pines. 

The  two  lovers  sat  there  all  the  afternoon  drinking 
in  half  sadly  the  joy  of  the  forest  and  of  being  near 
each  other,  for  the  moon  of  delight  was  almost  done. 
In  a  week  the  camping  party  would  be  breaking  up, 
and  Hilda  must  return  to  the  city.  It  was  uncertain 
when  they  would  be  able  to  see  each  other  again, 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  305 

though  there  was  talk  of  getting  up  a  whiter  party  to 
visit  Camp  One  in  January.  The  affair  would  be 
unique. 

Suddenly  the  girl  broke  off  and  put  her  fingers  to 
her  lips.  For  some  time,  dimly,  an  intermittent  and 
faint  sound  had  been  felt,  rather  than  actually  heard, 
like  the  irregular  muffled  beating  of  a  heart.  Gradu- 
ally it  had  insisted  on  the  attention.  Now  at  last  it 
broke  through  the  film  of  consciousness. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

Thorpe  listened.  Then  his  face  lit  mightily  with  the 
joy  of  battle. 

"  My  axmen,"  he  cried.  "  They  are  cutting  the 
road." 

A  faint  call  echoed.  Then  without  warning,  nearer 
at  hand  the  sharp  ring  of  an  ax  sounded  through  the 
forest 


THE 

BLAZED 
TRAIL 

r    '   ,  , 

Part  V 
The  Following  of  the  Trail 

r        r 


Chapter  XLIV 


M  .  lOR  a  moment  they  sat  listening  to  the  cleat 

rj    staccato  knocking  of  the  distant  blows,  and  the 

JL        more  forceful  thuds  of  the  man  nearer  at  hand. 

A  bird  or  so  darted  from  the  direction  of  the  sound 

and  shot  silently  into  the  thicket  behind  them. 

"What  are  they  doing?  Are  they  cutting  lum- 
ber?" asked  Hilda. 

"  No,"  answered  Thorpe,  "  we  do  not  cut  saw  logs 
at  this  time  of  year.  They  are  clearing  out  a  road." 

"  Where  does  it  go  to  ?  " 

"  Well,  nowhere  in  particular.  That  is,  it  is  a  log- 
ging road  that  starts  at  the  river  and  wanders  up 
through  the  woods  where  the  pine  is." 

"  How  clear  the  axes  sound.  Can't  we  go  down  and 
watch  them  a  little  while  ?  " 

"  The  main  gang  is  a  long  distance  away ;  sound 
carries  very  clearly  in  this  still  air.  As  for  that  fellow 
you  hear  so  plainly,  he  is  only  clearing  out  small  stuff 
to  get  ready  for  the  others.  You  wouldn't  see  any- 
thing different  from  your  Indian  chopping  the  cord- 
wood  for  your  camp  fire.  He  won't  chop  out  any  big 
trees." 

"  Let's  not  go,  then,"  said  Hilda  submissively. 

"  When  you  come  up  in  the  winter,"  he  pursued^ 
"  you  will  see  any  amount  of  big  timber  felled." 

"  I  would  like  to  know  more  about  it,"  she  sighed, 
a  quaint  little  air  of  childish  petulance  gravin^  two 
lines  between  her  eyebrows.  "  Do  you  know,  Harry, 
you  are  a  singularly  uncommunicative  sort  of  being, 
I  have  to  guess  that  your  life  is  interesting  and  pio 

309 


310  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

turesque,  —  that  is,"  she  amended,  "  I  should  have  to 
do  so  if  Wallace  Carpenter  had  not  told  me  a  little 
something  about  it.  Sometimes  I  think  you  are  not 
nearly  poet  enough  for  the  life  you  are  living.  Why, 
you  are  wonderful,  you  men  of  the  north,  and  you  let 
us  ordinary  mortals  who  have  not  the  gift  of  divina- 
tion imagine  you  entirely  occupied  with  how  many 
pounds  of  iron  chain  you  are  going  to  need  during  the 
winter."  She  said  these  things  lightly  as  one  who 
speaks  things  not  for  serious  belief. 

"  It  is  something  that  way,"  he  agreed  with  a  laugh. 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,"  she  persisted,  "  that  I  really 
don't  know  anything  at  all  about  the  life  you  lead  here  ? 
From  what  I  have  seen,  you  might  be  perpetually  oc- 
cupied in  eating  things  in  a  log  cabin,  and  in  disappear- 
ing to  perform  some  mysterious  rites  in  the  forest." 
She  looked  at  him  with  a  smiling  mouth  but  tender 
eyes,  her  head  tilted  back  slightly. 

"  It's  a  good  deal  that  way,  too,"  he  agreed  again. 
"  We  use  a  barrel  of  flour  in  Camp  One  every  two  and 
a  half  days !  " 

She  shook  her  head  in  a  faint  negation  that  only 
half  understood  what  he  was  saying,  her  whole  heart 
in  her  tender  gaze. 

"  Sit  there,"  she  breathed  very  softly,  pointing  to  the 
dried  needles  on  which  her  feet  rested,  but  without 
altering  the  position  of  her  head  or  the  steadfastness 
of  her  look. 

He  obeyed. 

"Now  tell  me,"  she  breathed,  still  in  the  fascinated 
monotone. 

"What? "he  inquired. 

"  Your  life ;  what  you  do ;  all  about  it.  You  must 
tell  me  a  story." 

Thorpe  settled  himself  more  lazily,  and  laughed  with 
quiet  enjoyment.  Never  had  he  felt  the  expansion  of 
a  similar  mood.  The  barrier  between  himself  and  self- 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  31! 

expression  had  faded,  leaving  not  the  smallest  debris 
of  the  old  stubborn  feeling. 

"  The  story  of  the  woods,"  he  began,  "  the  story  of 
the  saw  log.  It  would  take  a  bigger  man  than  I  to 
tell  it.  I  doubt  if  any  one  man  ever  would  be  big 
enough.  It  is  a  drama,  a  struggle,  a  battle.  Those 
men  you  hear  there  are  only  the  skirmishers  extend- 
ing the  firing  line.  We  are  fighting  always  with 
Time.  I'll  have  to  hurry  now  to  get  those  roads  done 
and  a  certain  creek  cleared  before  the  snow.  Then 
we'll  have  to  keep  on  the  keen  move  to  finish  our  cut- 
ting before  the  deep  snow ;  to  haul  our  logs  before  the 
spring  thaws ;  to  float  them  down  the  river  while  the 
freshet  water  lasts.  When  we  gain  a  day  we  have 
scored  a  victory;  when  the  wilderness  puts  us  back 
an  hour,  we  have  suffered  a  defeat.  Our  ammunition 
is  Time;  our  small  shot  the  minutes,  our  heavy  ord- 
nance the  hours !  " 

The  girl  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  cov- 
ered it  with  his  own. 

"  But  we  win  !  "  he  cried.     "  We  win !  " 

"  That  is  what  I  like,"  she  said  softly,  "  —  the  strong 
spirit  that  wins  !  "  She  hesitated,  then  went  on  gently, 
"  But  the  battlefields,  Harry ;  to  me  they  are  dreadful. 
I  went  walking  yesterday  morning,  before  you  came 
over,  and  after  a  while  I  found  myself  in  the  most 
awful  place.  The  stumps  of  trees,  the  dead  branches, 
the  trunks  lying  all  about,  and  the  glaring  hot  sun  over 
everything !  Harry,  there  was  not  a  single  bird  in  all 
that  waste,  a  single  green  thing.  You  don't  know  how 
it  affected  me  so  early  in  the  morning.  I  saw  just  one 
lonesome  pine  tree  that  had  been  left  for  some  reason 
or  another,  standing  there  like  a  sentinel.  I  could 
shut  my  eyes  and  see  all  the  others  standing,  and  al- 
most hear  the  birds  singing  and  the  wind  in  the 
branches,  just  as  it  is  here."  She  seized  his  fingers  in 
her  other  hand.  "  Harry,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  don't 


312  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

believe  I  can  ever  forget  that  experience,  any  more 
than  I  could  have  forgotten  a  battlefield,  were  I  to  see 
one.  I  can  shut  my  eyes  now,  and  can  see  this  place, 
our  dear  little  wooded  knoll  wasted  and  blackened  as 
that  was." 

The  man  twisted  his  shoulder  uneasily  and  withdrew 
his  hand. 

"  Harry,"  she  said  again,  after  a  pause,  "  you  must 
promise  to  leave  this  woods  until  the  very  last.  I 
suppose  it  must  all  be  cut  down  some  day,  but  I  do  not 
want  to  be  here  to  see  after  it  is  all  over." 

Thorpe  remained  silent. 

"  Men  do  not  care  much  for  keepsakes,  do  they, 
Harry?  —  they  don't  save  letters  and  flowers  as  we 
girls  do  —  but  even  a  man  can  feel  the  value  of  a  great 
beautiful  keepsake  such  as  this,  can't  he,  dear?  Our 
meeting-place  —  do  you  remember  how  I  found  you 
down  there  by  the  old  pole  trail,  staring  as  though  you 
had  seen  a  ghost?  —  and  that  beautiful,  beautiful 
music !  It  must  always  be  our  most  sacred  memory. 
Promise  me  you  will  save  it  until  the  very,  very 
last." 

Thorpe  said  nothing  because  he  could  not  rally  his 
faculties.  The  sentimental  association  connected  with 
the  grove  had  actually  never  occurred  to  him.  His 
keepsakes  were  impressions  which  he  carefully  guard- 
ed in  his  memory.  To  the  natural  masculine  indiffer- 
ence toward  material  bits  of  sentiment  he  had  added 
the  instinct  of  the  strictly  portable  early  developed  in 
the  rover.  He  had  never  even  possessed  a  photograph 
of  his  sister.  Now  this  sudden  discovery  that  such 
things  might  be  part  of  the  woof  of  another  person's 
spiritual  garment  came  to  him  ready-grown  to  the 
proportions  of  a  problem. 

In  selecting  the  districts  for  the  season's  cut,  he  had 
included  in  his  estimates  this  very  grove.  Since  then 
he  had  seen  no  reason  for  changing  his  decision.  The 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  313 

operations  would  not  commence  until  winter.  By 
that  time  the  lovers  would  no  longer  care  to  use  it  as 
at  present.  Now  rapidly  he  passed  in  review  a  dozen 
expedients  by  which  his  plan  might  be  modified  to 
permit  of  the  grove's  exclusion.  His  practical  mind 
discovered  flaws  in  every  one.  Other  bodies  of  timber 
promising  a  return  of  ten  thousand  dollars  were  not 
to  be  found  near  the  river,  and  time  now  lacked  for 
the  cutting  of  roads  to  more  distant  forties. 

"  Hilda,"  he  broke  in  abruptly  at  last,  "  the  men  you 
hear  are  clearing  a  road  to  this  very  timber." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  This  timber  is  marked  for  cutting  this  very  win- 
ter." 

She  had  not  a  suspicion  of  the  true  state  of  affairs. 
"  Isn't  it  lucky  I  spoke  of  it !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How 
could  you  have  forgotten  to  countermand  the  order  1 
You  must  see  to  it  to-day ;  now !  " 

She  sprang  up  impulsively  and  stood  waiting  for 
him.  He  arose  more  slowly.  Even  before  he  spoke 
her  eyes  dilated  with  the  shock  from  her  quick  intui- 
tions. 

"  Hilda,  I  cannot,"  he  said. 

She  stood  very  still  for  some  seconds. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Because  I  have  not  time  to  cut  a  road  through  to 
another  bunch  of  pine.  It  is  this  or  nothing." 

"  Why  not  nothing,  then  ?  " 

"  I  want  the  money  this  will  bring." 

His  choice  of  a  verb  was  unfortunate.  The  employ- 
ment of  that  one  little  word  opened  the  girl's  mind  to 
a  flood  of  old  suspicions  which  the  frank  charm  of  the 
northland  had  thrust  outside.  Hilda  Farrand  was  an 
heiress  and  a  beautiful  girl.  She  had  been  constantly 
reminded  of  the  one  fact  by  the  attempts  of  men  to  use 
flattery  of  the  other  as  a  key  to  her  heart  and  her  fort- 
une. From  early  girlhood  she  had  been  sought  by  the 


314  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

brilliant  impecunious  of  two  continents.  The  con- 
tinued experience  had  varnished  her  self-esteem  with 
a  glaze  of  cynicism  sufficiently  consistent  to  protect  it 
against  any  but  the  strongest  attack.  She  believed  in 
no  man's  protestations.  She  distrusted  every  man's 
motives  as  far  as  herself  was  concerned.  This  attitude 
of  mind  was  not  unbecoming  in  her  for  the  simple 
reason  that  it  destroyed  none  of  her  graciousness  as 
regards  other  human  relations  besides  that  of  love. 
That  men  should  seek  her  in  matrimony  from  a  selfish 
motive  was  as  much  to  be  expected  as  that  flies  should 
seek  the  sugar  bowl.  She  accepted  the  fact  as  one  of 
nature's  laws,  annoying  enough  but  inevitable ;  a 
thing  to  guard  against,  but  not  one  of  sufficient  mo- 
ment to  grieve  over. 

With  Thorpe,  however,  her  suspicions  had  been 
lulled.  There  is  something  virile  and  genuine  about 
the  woods  and  the  men  who  inhabit  them  that  strongly 
predisposes  the  mind  to  accept  as  proved  in  their  en- 
tirety all  the  other  virtues.  Hilda  had  fallen  into  this 
state  of  mind.  She  endowed  each  of  the  men  whom 
she  encountered  with  all  the  robust  qualities  she  had 
no  difficulty  in  recognizing  as  part  of  nature's  charm 
in  the  wilderness.  Now  at  a  word  her  eyes  were 
opened  to  what  she  had  done.  She  saw  that  she  had 
assumed  unquestioningly  that  her  lover  possessed  the 
qualities  of  his  environment. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  she  doubt  the  reality  of  her 
love.  She  had  conceived  one  of  those  deep,  uplifting 
passions  possible  only  to  a  young  girl.  But  her  cyni- 
cal experience  warned  her  that  the  reality  of  that  pas- 
sion's object  was  not  proven  by  any  test  besides  the 
fallible  one  of  her  own  poetizing  imagination.  The 
reality  of  the  ideal  she  had  constructed  might  be  a  van- 
ishable  quantity  even  though  the  love  of  it  was  not. 
So  to  the  interview  that  ensued  she  brought,  not  the 
partiality  of  a  loving  heart,  nor  even  the  impartiality 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  315 

of  one  sitting  in  judgment,  but  rather  the  perverted 
prejudice  of  one  who  actually  fears  the  truth. 

"Will  you  tell  me  for  what  you  want  the  money  ?  " 
she  asked. 

The  young  man  caught  the  note  of  distrust.  At 
once,  instinctively,  his  own  confidence  vanished.  He 
drew  within  himself,  again  beyond  the  power  of  justify- 
ing himself  with  the  needed  word. 

"  The  firm  needs  it  in  the  business,"  said  he. 

Her  next  question  countered  instantaneously. 

"  Does  the  firm  need  the  money  more  than  you  do 
me?" 

They  stared  at  each  other  in  the  silence  of  the  situa- 
tion that  had  so  suddenly  developed.  It  had  come 
into  being  without  their  volition,  as  a  dust  cloud 
springs  up  on  a  plain. 

"  You  do  not  mean  that,  Hilda,"  said  Thorpe  quietly. 
"  It  hardly  comes  to  that." 

"  Indeed  it  does,"  she  replied,  every  nerve  of  her  fine 
organization  strung  to  excitement.  "  I  should  be 
more  to  you  than  any  firm." 

"  Sometimes  it  is  necessary  to  look  after  the  bread 
and  butter,"  Thorpe  reminded  her  gently,  although  he 
knew  that  was  not  the  real  reason  at  all. 

"  If  your  firm  can't  supply  it,  I  can,"  she  answered. 
"  It  seems  strange  that  you  won't  grant  my  first  re- 
quest of  you,  merely  because  of  a  little  money." 

"  It  isn't  a  little  money,"  he  objected,  catching  man- 
like at  the  practical  question.  "  You  don't  realize  what 
an  amount  a  clump  of  pine  like  this  stands  for.  Just 
in  saw  logs,  before  it  is  made  into  lumber,  it  will  be 
worth  about  thirty  thousand  dollars,  —  of  course 
there's  the  expense  of  logging  to  pay  out  of  that,"  he 
added,  out  of  his  accurate  business  conservatism,  "  but 
there's  ten  thousand  dollars'  profit  in  it." 

The  girl,  exasperated  by  cold  details  at  such  a  time, 
blazed  out.  "  I  never  heard  anything  so  ridiculous  in 


316 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 


my  life !  "  she  cried.  "  Either  you  are  not  at  all  the 
man  I  thought  you,  or  you  nave  some  better  reason 
than  you  have  given.  Tell  me,  Harry  ;  tell  me  at  once. 
You  don't  know  what  you  are  doing." 

"  The  firm  needs  it,  Hilda,"  said  Thorpe,  "  in  ordet 
to  succeed.  If  we  do  not  cut  this  pine,  we  may 
fail." 

In  that  he  stated  his  religion.  The  duty  of  success 
was  to  him  one  of  the  loftiest  of  abstractions,  for  it 
measured  the  degree  of  a  man's  efficiency  in  the  sta- 
tion to  which  God  had  called  him.  The  money,  as 
such,  was  nothing  to  him. 

Unfortunately  the  girl  had  learned  a  different  lan- 
guage. She  knew  nothing  of  the  hardships,  the  strug- 
gles, the  delight  of  winning  for  the  sake  of  victory 
rather  than  the  sake  of  spoils.  To  her,  success  meant 
getting  a  lot  of  money.  The  name  by  which  Thorpe 
labelled  his  most  sacred  principle,  to  her  represented 
something  base  and  sordid.  She  had  more  money 
herself  than  she  knew.  It  hurt  her  to  the  soul  that 
the  condition  of  a  small  money-making  machine,  as 
she  considered  the  lumber  firm,  should  be  weighed 
even  for  an  instant  against  her  love.  It  was  a  great 
deal  Thorpe's  fault  that  she  so  saw  the  firm.  He  might 
easily  have  shown  her  the  great  forces  and  principles 
for  which  it  stood. 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  tense, 
"  if  I  were  a  man  and  loved  a  woman,  I  would  be  ready 
to  give  up  everything  for  her.  My  riches,  my  pride, 
my  life,  my  honor,  my  soul  even,  —  they  would  be  as 
nothing,  as  less  than  nothing  to  me,  —  if  I  loved. 
Harry,  don't  let  me  think  I  am  mistaken.  Let  this 
miserable  firm  of  yours  fail,  if  fail  it  must  for  lack  of 
my  poor  little  temple  of  dreams,"  she  held  out  her 
hands  with  a  tender  gesture  of  appeal.  The  affair  had 
gone  beyond  the  preservation  of  a  few  trees.  It  had 
become  the  question  of  an  ideal.  Gradually,  in  spite 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  317 

of  herself,  the  conviction  was  forcing  itself  upon  her 
that  the  man  she  had  loved  was  no  different  from  the 
rest ;  that  the  greed  of  the  dollar  had  corrupted  him 
too.  By  the  mere  yielding  to  her  wishes,  she  wanted 
to  prove  the  suspicion  wrong. 

Now  the  strange  part  of  the  whole  situation  was, 
that  in  two  words  Thorpe  could  have  cleared  it.  If  he 
had  explained  that  he  needed  the  ten  thousand  dollars 
to  help  pay  a  note  given  to  save  from  ruin  a  foolish 
friend,  he  would  have  supplied  to  the  affair  just  the 
higher  motive  the  girl's  clear  spirituality  demanded. 
Then  she  would  have  shared  enthusiastically  in  the 
sacrifice,  and  been  the  more  loving  and  repentant  from 
her  momentary  doubt.  All  she  needed  was  that  the 
man  should  prove  himself  actuated  by  a  noble,  instead 
of  a  sordid,  motive.  The  young  man  did  not  say  the 
two  words,  because  in  all  honesty  he  thought  them  un- 
important. It  seemed  to  him  quite  natural  that  he 
should  go  on  Wallace  Carpenter's  note.  That  fact 
altered  not  a  bit  the  main  necessity  of  success.  It  was 
a  man's  duty  to  make  the  best  of  himself,  —  it  was 
Thorpe's  duty  to  prove  himself  supremely  efficient  in 
his  chosen  calling ;  the  mere  coincidence  that  his  part- 
ner's troubles  worked  along  the  same  lines  meant 
nothing  to  the  logic  of  the  situation.  In  stating  baldly 
that  he  needed  the  money  to  assure  the  firm's  exist- 
ence, he  imagined  he  had  adduced  the  strongest  possi- 
ble reason  for  his  attitude.  If  the  girl  was  not  influ- 
enced by  that,  the  case  was  hopeless. 

It  was  the  difference  of  training  rather  than  the  dif- 
ference of  ideas.  Both  clung  to  unselfishness  as  the 
highest  reason  for  human  action ;  but  each  expressed 
the  thought  in  a  manner  incomprehensible  to  the 
other. 

"  I  cannot,  Hilda,"  he  answered  steadily. 

"  You  sell  me  for  ten  thousand  dollars !  I  cannot 
believe  it  1  Harry !  Harry !  Must  I  put  it  to  you  as 


318  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

a  choice?  Don't  you  love  me  enough  to  spare  me 
that?" 

He  did  not  reply.  As  long  as  it  remained  a  dilem- 
ma, he  would  not  reply.  He  was  in  the  right. 

"  Do  you  need  the  money  more  than  you  do  me  ? 
more  than  you  do  love  ?  "  she  begged,  her  soul  in  her 
eyes ;  for  she  was  begging  also  for  herself.  "  Think, 
Harry ;  it  is  the  last  chance !  " 

Once  more  he  was  face  to  face  with  a  vital  decision. 
To  his  surprise  he  discovered  in  his  mind  no  doubt 
as  to  what  the  answer  should  be.  He  experienced  no 
conflict  of  mind ;  no  hesitation ;  for  the  moment,  no 
regret.  During  all  his  woods  life  he  had  been  follow- 
ing diligently  the  trail  he  had  blazed  for  his  conduct. 
Now  his  feet  carried  him  unconsciously  to  the  same 
end.  There  was  no  other  way  out.  In  the  winter  of 
his  trouble  the  clipped  trees  alone  guided  him,  and  at 
the  end  of  them  he  found  his  decision.  It  is  in  crises 
of  this  sort,  when  a  little  reflection  or  consideration 
would  do  wonders  to  prevent  a  catastrophe,  that  all 
the  forgotten  deeds,  decisions,  principles,  and  thoughts 
of  a  man's  past  life  combine  solidly  into  the  walls  of 
fatality,  so  that  in  spite  of  himself  he  finds  he  must 
act  in  accordance  with  them.  In  answer  to  Hilda's 
question  he  merely  inclined  his  head. 

"  I  have  seen  a  vision,"  said  she  simply,  and  lowered 
her  head  to  conceal  her  eyes.  Then  she  looked  at  him 
again.  "  There  can  be  nothing  better  than  love,"  she 
said. 

"  Yes,  one  thing,"  said  Thorpe,  "  —  the  duty  of  suc- 
cess." 

The  man  had  stated  his  creed;  the  woman  hers. 
The  one  is  born  perfect  enough  for  love;  the  other 
must  work,  must  attain  the  completeness  of  a  fulfilled 
function,  must  succeed,  to  deserve  it. 

She  left  him  then,  and  did  not  see  him  again.  Four 
days  later  the  camping  party  left.  Thorpe  sent  Tim 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  3*9 

Shearer  over,  as  his  most  efficient  man,  to  see  that  they 
got  off  without  difficulty,  but  himself  retired  on  some 
excuse  to  Camp  Four.  Three  weeks  gone  in  October 
he  received  a  marked  newspaper  announcing  the  en- 
gagement of  Miss  Hilda  Farrand  to  Mr.  Hildreth 
Morton  of  Chicago. 

He  had  burned  his  ships,  and  stood  now  on  an  un- 
friendly shore.  The  first  sacrifice  to  his  jealous  god 
had  been  consummated,  and  now,  live  or  die,  he  stood 
pledged  to  win  his  fight. 


Chapter  XLV 


W  "f  .^INTER  set  in  early  and  continued  late; 
l/j/  which  in  the  end  was  a  good  thing  for  the 
r  r  year's  cut.  The  season  was  capricious, 

hanging  for  days  at  a  time  at  the  brink  of  a  thaw,  only  to 
stiffen  again  into  severe  weather.  This  was  trying  on 
the  nerves.  For  at  each  of  these  false  alarms  the  six 
camps  fell  into  a  feverish  haste  to  get  the  job  finished 
before  the  break-up.  It  was  really  quite  extraordinary 
how  much  was  accomplished  under  the  nagging  spur 
of  weather  conditions  and  the  cruel  rowelling  of 
Thorpe. 

The  latter  had  now  no  thought  beyond  his  work, 
and  that  was  the  thought  of  a  madman.  He  had  been 
stern  and  unyielding  enough  before,  goodness  knows, 
but  now  he  was  terrible.  His  restless  energy  perme- 
ated every  molecule  in  the  economic  structure  over 
which  he  presided,  roused  it  to  intense  vibration.  Not 
for  an  instant  was  there  a  resting  spell.  The  veriest 
chore-boy  talked,  thought,  dreamed  of  nothing  but  saw 
logs.  Men  whispered  vaguely  of  a  record  cut.  Team- 
sters looked  upon  their  success  or  failure  to  keep  near 
the  top  on  the  day's  haul  as  a  signal  victory  or  a  dis- 
graceful defeat.  The  difficulties  of  snow,  accident, 
topography  which  an  ever-watchful  nature  threw 
down  before  the  rolling  car  of  this  industry,  were 
swept  aside  like  straws.  Little  time  was  wasted  and 
no  opportunities.  It  did  not  matter  how  smoothly 
affairs  happened  to  be  running  for  the  moment,  every 
advantage,  even  the  smallest,  was  eagerly  seized  to 
advance  the  work.  A  drop  of  five  degrees  during 

320 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  321 

the  frequent  warm  spells  brought  out  the  sprinklers, 
even  in  dead  of  night ;  an  accident  was  white-hot  in 
the  forge  almost  before  the  crack  of  the  iron  had  ceased 
to  echo.  At  night  the  men  fell  into  their  bunks  like 
sandbags,  and  their  last  conscious  thought,  if  indeed 
they  had  any  at  all,  was  of  eagerness  for  the  morrow 
in  order  that  they  might  push  the  grand  total  up  an- 
other notch.  It  was  madness ;  but  it  was  the  madness 
these  men  loved. 

For  now  to  his  old  religion  Thorpe  had  added  a  fa- 
naticism, and  over  the  fanaticism  was  gradually  creep- 
ing a  film  of  doubt.  To  the  conscientious  energy 
which  a  sense  of  duty  supplied,  was  added  the  tremen- 
dous kinetic  force  of  a  love  turned  into  other  channels. 
And  in  the  wild  nights  while  the  other  men  slept, 
Thorpe's  half-crazed  brain  was  revolving  over  and 
over  again  the  words  of  the  sentence  he  had  heard  from 
Hilda's  lips :  "There  can  be  nothing  better  than  love." 

His  actions,  his  mind,  his  very  soul  vehemently  de- 
nied the  proposition.  He  clung  as  ever  to  his  high 
Puritanic  idea  of  man's  purpose.  But  down  deep  in  a 
very  tiny,  sacred  corner  of  his  heart  a  very  small  voice 
sometimes  made  itself  heard  when  other,  more  militant 
voices  were  still :  "  It  may  be ;  it  may  be !  " 

The  influence  of  this  voice  was  practically  nothing. 
It  made  itself  heard  occasionally.  Perhaps  even,  for 
the  time  being,  its  weight  counted  on  the  other  side 
of  the  scale ;  for  Thorpe  took  pains  to  deny  it  fiercely, 
both  directly  and  indirectly  by  increased  exertions. 
But  it  persisted ;  and  once  in  a  moon  or  so,  when  the 
conditions  were  quite  favorable,  it  attained  for  an  in- 
stant a  shred  of  belief. 

Probably  never  since  the  Puritan  days  of  New  Eng- 
land has  a  community  lived  as  sternly  as  did  that  win- 
ter of  1888  the  six  camps  under  Thorpe's  management. 
There  was  something  a  little  inspiring  about  it.  The 
men  fronted  their  daily  work  with  the  same  grim-faced, 


322  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

clear-eyed  steadiness  of  veterans  going  into  battle; 
with  the  same  confidence,  the  same  sure  patience  that 
disposes  effectively  of  one  thing  before  going  on  to  the 
next.  There  was  little  merely  excitable  bustle ;  there 
was  no  rest.  Nothing  could  stand  against  such  a  spirit. 
Nothing  did.  The  skirmishers  which  the  wilderness 
threw  out,  were  brushed  away.  Even  the  inevitable 
delays  seemed  not  so  much  stoppages  as  the  instant's 
pause  of  a  heavy  vehicle  in  a  snow  drift,  succeeded  by 
the  momentary  acceleration  as  the  plunge  carried  it 
through.  In  the  main,  and  by  large,  the  machine 
moved  steadily  and  inexorably. 

And  yet  one  possessed  of  the  finer  spiritual  intui- 
tions could  not  have  shaken  off  the  belief  in  an  impend- 
ing struggle.  The  feel  of  it  was  in  the  air.  Nature's 
forces  were  too  mighty  to  be  so  slightly  overcome  ;  the 
splendid  energy  developed  in  these  camps  too  vast  to 
be  wasted  on  facile  success.  Over  against  each  other 
were  two  great  powers,  alike  in  their  calm  confidence, 
animated  with  the  loftiest  and  most  dignified  spirit  of 
enmity.  Slowly  they  were  moving  toward  each  other. 
The  air  was  surcharged  with  the  electricity  of  their  op- 
position. Just  how  the  struggle  would  begin  was  un- 
certain ;  but  its  inevitability  was  as  assured  as  its  mag- 
nitude. Thorpe  knew  it,  and  shut  his  teeth,  looking 
keenly  about  him.  The  Fighting  Forty  knew  it,  and 
longed  for  the  grapple  to  come.  The  other  camps 
knew  it,  and  followed  their  leader  with  perfect  trust. 
The  affair  was  an  epitome  of  the  historic  combats  be- 
gun with  David  and  Goliath.  It  was  an  affair  of 
Titans.  The  little  courageous  men  watched  their  en- 
emy with  cat's  eyes. 

The  last  month  of  hauling  was  also  one  of  snow. 
In  this  condition  were  few  severe  storms,  but  each  day 
a  little  fell.  By  and  by  the  accumulation  amounted  to 
much.  In  the  woods  where  the  wind  could  not  get 
at  it,  it  lay  deep  and  soft  above  the  tops  of  bushes.  The 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  323 

grouse  ate  browse  from  the  slender  hardwood  tips  like 
a  lot  of  goldfinches,  or  precipitated  themselves  head- 
long down  through  five  feet  of  snow  to  reach  the 
ground.  Often  Thorpe  would  come  across  the  irregu- 
lar holes  of  their  entrance.  Then  if  he  took  the  trou- 
ble to  stamp  about  a  little  in  the  vicinity  with  his  snow- 
shoes,  the  bird  would  spring  unexpectedly  from  the 
clear  snow,  scattering  a  cloud  with  its  strong  wings. 
The  deer,  herded  together,  tramped  "  yards  "  where 
the  feed  was  good.  Between  the  yards  ran  narrow 
trails.  When  the  animals  went  from  one  yard  to  an- 
other in  these  trails,  their  ears  and  antlers  alone  were 
visible.  On  either  side  of  the  logging  roads  the  snow 
piled  so  high  as  to  form  a  kind  of  rampart.  When  all 
this  water  in  suspense  should  begin  to  flow,  and  to 
seek  its  level  in  the  water-courses  of  the  district,  the 
logs  would  have  plenty  to  float  them,  at  least. 

So  late  did  the  cold  weather  last  that,  even  with  the 
added  plowing  to  do,  the  six  camps  beat  all  records. 
On  the  banks  at  Camp  One  were  nine  million  feet; 
the  totals  of  all  five  amounted  to  thirty-three  million. 
About  ten  million  of  this  was  on  French  Creek ;  the 
remainder  on  the  main  banks  of  the  Ossawinamakee. 
Besides  this  the  firm  up-river,  Sadler  &  Smith,  had  put 
up  some  twelve  million  more.  The  drive  promised  to 
be  quite  an  affair. 

About  the  fifteenth  of  April  attention  became 
strained.  Every  day  the  mounting  sun  made  heavy 
attacks  on  the  snow:  every  night  the  temperature 
dropped  below  the  freezing  point.  The  river  began  to 
show  more  air  holes,  occasional  open  places.  About 
the  center  the  ice  looked  worn  and  soggy.  Someone 
saw  a  flock  of  geese  high  in  the  air.  Then  came  rain. 

One  morning  early,  Long  Pine  Jim  came  into  the 
men's  camp  bearing  a  huge  chunk  of  tallow.  This  he 
held  against  the  hot  stove  until  its  surface  had  soft- 
ened, when  he  began  to  swab  liberal  quantities  of 


324  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

grease  on  his  spiked  river  shoes,  which  he  fished  out 
from  under  his  bunk. 

"  She's  comin',  boys,"  said  he. 

He  donned  a  pair  of  woolen  trousers  that  had  been 
chopped  off  at  the  knee,  thick  woolen  stockings,  and 
the  river  shoes.  Then  he  tightened  his  broad  leather 
belt  about  his  heavy  shirt,  cocked  his  little  hat  over  his 
ear,  and  walked  over  in  the  corner  to  select  a  peavey 
from  the  lot  the  blacksmith  had  just  put  in  shape.  A 
peavey  is  like  a  cant-hook  except  that  it  is  pointed 
at  the  end.  Thus  it  can  be  used  either  as  a  hook  or  a 
pike.  At  the  same  moment  Shearer,  similarly  attired 
and  equipped,  appeared  in  the  doorway.  The  opening 
of  the  portal  admitted  a  roar  of  sound.  The  river  was 
rising. 

"  Come  on,  boys,  she's  on !  "  said  he  sharply. 

Outside,  the  cook  and  cookee  were  stowing  articles 
in  the  already  loaded  wanigan.  The  scow  contained 
tents,  blankets,  provisions,  and  a  portable  stove.  It 
followed  the  drive,  and  made  a  camp  wherever  expedi- 
ency demanded. 

"  Lively,  boys,  lively !  "  shouted  Thorpe.  "  She'll  be 
down  on  us  before  we  know  it !  " 

Above  the  soft  creaking  of  dead  branches  in  the  wind 
sounded  a  steady  roar,  like  the  bellowing  of  a  wild 
beast  lashing  itself  to  fury.  The  freshet  was  abroad, 
forceful  with  the  strength  of  a  whole  winter's  accumu- 
lated energy. 

The  men  heard  it  and  their  eyes  brightened  with  tke 
lust  of  battle.  They  cheered. 


Chapter  XLVI 


>^T  the  banks  of  the  river,  Thorpe  rapidly  issued 

jLt  his  directions.  The  affair  had  been  all  pre- 
^  i  arranged.  During  the  week  previous  he  and 
his  foremen  had  reviewed  the  situation,  examining  the 
state  of  the  ice,  the  heads  of  water  in  the  three  dams. 
Immediately  above  the  first  rollways  was  Dam  Three 
with  its  two  wide  sluices  through  which  a  veritable 
flood  could  be  loosened  at  will ;  then  four  miles  farther 
lay  the  rollways  of  Sadler  &  Smith,  the  up-river  firm ; 
and  above  them  tumbled  over  a  forty-five  foot  ledge 
the  beautiful  Siscoe  Falls;  these  first  rollways  of 
Thorpe's  —  spread  in  the  broad  marsh  flat  below  the 
dam  —  contained  about  eight  millions ;  the  rest  of  the 
season's  cut  was  scattered  for  thirty  miles  along  the 
bed  of  the  river. 

Already  the  ice  cementing  the  logs  together  had  be- 
gun to  weaken.  The  ice  had  wrenched  and  tugged 
savagely  at  the  locked  timbers  until  they  had,  with  a 
mighty  effort,  snapped  asunder  the  bonds  of  their 
hibernation.  Now  a  narrow  lane  of  black  rushing 
water  pierced  the  rollways,  to  boil  and  eddy  in  the  con- 
sequent jam  three  miles  below. 

To  the  foremen  Thorpe  assigned  their  tasks,  calling 
them  to  him  one  by  one,  as  a  general  calls  his  aids. 

"  Moloney,"  said  he  to  the  big  Irishman,  "  take  your 
crew  and  break  that  jam.  Then  scatter  your  men 
down  to  within  a  mile  of  the  pond  at  Dam  Two,  and 
see  that  the  river  runs  clear.  You  can  tent  for  a  day 
or  so  at  West  Bend  or  some  other  point  about  half  way 
down ;  and  after  that  you  had  better  camp  at  the  dam. 

325 


326  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

Just  as  soon  as  you  get  logs  enough  in  the  pond,  start 
to  sluicing  them  through  the  dam.  You  won't  need 
more  than  four  men  there,  if  you  keep  a  good  head. 
You  can  keep  your  gates  open  five  or  six  hours.  And 
Moloney." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  want  you  to  be  careful  not  to  sluice  too  long. 
There  is  a  bar  just  below  the  dam,  and  if  you  try  to 
sluice  with  the  water  too  low,  you'll  center  and  jam 
there,  as  sure  as  shooting." 

Bryan  Moloney  turned  on  his  heel  and  began  to  pick 
his  way  down  stream  over  the  solidly  banked  logs. 
Without  waiting  the  command,  a  dozen  men  followed 
him.  The  little  group  bobbed  away  irregularly  into 
the  distance,  springing  lightly  from  one  timber  to  the 
other,  holding  their  quaintly-fashioned  peaveys  in  the 
manner  of  a  rope  dancer's  balancing  pole.  At  the 
lowermost  limit  of  the  rollways,  each  man  pried  a  log 
into  the  water,  and,  standing  gracefully  erect  on  this 
unstable  craft,  floated  out  down  the  current  to  the 
icene  of  his  dangerous  labor. 

"  Kerlie,"  went  on  Thorpe,  "  your  crew  can  break 
rollways  with  the  rest  until  we  get  the  river  fairly  filled, 
und  then  you  can  move  on  down  stream  as  fast  as  you 
are  needed.  Scotty,  you  will  have  the  rear.  Tim  and 
I  will  boss  the  river." 

At  once  the  signal  was  given  to  Ellis,  the  dam 
watcher.  Ellis  and  his  assistants  thereupon  began  to 
pry  with  long  iron  bars  at  the  ratchets  of  the  heavy 
gates.  The  chore-boy  bent  attentively  over  the 
ratchet-pin,  lifting  it  delicately  to  permit  another  inch 
of  raise,  dropping  it  accurately  to  enable  the  men  at 
the  bars  to  seize  a  fresh  purchase.  The  river's  roar 
deepened.  Through  the  wide  sluiceways  a  torrent 
foamed  and  tumbled.  Immediately  it  spread  through 
the  brush  on  either  side  to  the  limits  of  the  freshet 
banks,  and  then  gathered  for  its  leap  against  the  un- 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  327 

easy  rollways.  Along  the  edge  of  the  dark  channel 
the  face  of  the  logs  seemed  to  crumble  away.  Farther 
in  towards  the  banks  where  the  weight  of  timber  still 
outbalanced  the  weight  of  the  flood,  the  tiers  grumbled 
and  stirred,  restless  with  the  stream's  calling.  Far 
down  the  river,  where  Bryan  Moloney  and  his  crew 
were  picking  at  the  jam,  the  water  in  eager  streamlets 
sought  the  interstices  between  the  logs,  gurgling  ex- 
citedly like  a  mountain  brook. 

The  jam  creaked  and  groaned  in  response  to  the 
^pressure.  From  its  face  a  hundred  jets  of  water 
(spurted  into  the  lower  stream.  Logs  up-ended  here 
land  there,  rising  from  the  bristling  surface  slowly,  like 
so  many  arms  from  lower  depths.  Above,  the  water 
eddied  back  foaming;  logs  shot  down  from  the  roll- 
ways,  paused  at  the  slackwater,  and  finally  hit  with  a 
hollow  and  resounding  boom!  against  the  tail  of  the 
jam.  A  moment  later  they  too  up-ended,  so  becom- 
ing an  integral  part  of  the  chevaux  de  frise. 

The  crew  were  working  desperately.  Down  in  the 
heap  somewhere,  two  logs  were  crossed  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  lock  the  whole.  They  sought  those  logs. 

Thirty  feet  above  the  bed  of  the  river  six  men 
clamped  their  peaveys  into  the  soft  pine  ;  jerking,  pull- 
ing, lifting,  sliding  the  great  logs  from  their  places. 
Thirty  feet  below,  under  the  threatening  face,  six  other 
men  coolly  picked  out  and  set  adrift,  one  by  one,  the 
timbers  not  inextricably  imbedded.  From  time  to 
time  the  mass  creaked,  settled,  perhaps  even  moved 
a  foot  or  two ;  but  always  the  practiced  rivermen,  after 
a  glance,  bent  more  eagerly  to  their  work. 

Outlined  against  the  sky,  big  Bryan  Moloney  stood 
directing  the  work.  He  had  gone  at  the  job  on  the 
bias  of  indirection,  picking  out  a  passage  at  either  side 
that  the  center  might  the  more  easily  "pull."  He  knew 
by  the  tenseness  of  the  log  he  stood  on  that,  behind  the 
jam,  power  had  gathered  sufficient  to  push  the  whole 


328  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

tangle  down-stream.  Now  he  was  offering  it  the 
chance. 

Suddenly  the  six  men  below  the  jam  scattered. 
Four  of  them,  holding  their  peaveys  across  their  bodies, 
jumped  lightly  from  one  floating  log  to  another  in  the 
zigzag  to  shore.  When  they  stepped  on  a  small  log 
they  re-leaped  immediately,  leaving  a  swirl  of  foam 
where  the  little  timber  had  sunk  under  them ;  when 
they  encountered  one  larger,  they  hesitated  for  a  barely 
perceptible  instant.  Thus  their  progression  was  of 
fascinating  and  graceful  irregularity.  The  other  two 
ran  the  length  of  their  footing,  and,  overleaping  an 
open  of  water,  landed  heavily  and  firmly  on  the  very 
ends  of  two  small  floating  logs.  In  this  manner  the 
force  of  the  jump  rushed  the  little  timbers  end-on 
through  the  water.  The  two  men,  maintaining  mar- 
vellously their  balance,  were  thus  ferried  to  within 
leaping  distance  of  the  other  shore. 

In  the  meantime  a  barely  perceptible  motion  was 
communicating  itself  from  one  particle  to  another 
through  the  center  of  the  jam.  A  cool  and  observant 
spectator  might  have  imagined  that  the  broad  timber 
carpet  was  changing  a  little  its  pattern,  just  as  the 
earth  near  the  windows  of  an  arrested  railroad  train 
seems  for  a  moment  to  retrogress.  The  crew  re- 
doubled its  exertions,  clamping  its  peaveys  here  and 
there,  apparently  at  random,  but  in  reality  with  the 
most  definite  of  purposes.  A  sharp  crack  exploded  im- 
mediately underneath.  There  could  no  longer  exist 
any  doubt  as  to  the  motion,  although  it  was  as  yet  slug- 
gish, glacial.  Then  in  silence  a  log  shifted  —  in  silence 
and  slowly  —  but  with  irresistible  force.  Jimmy 
Powers  quietly  stepped  over  it,  just  as  it  menaced  his 
leg.  Other  logs  in  all  directions  up-ended.  The  jam 
crew  were  forced  continually  to  alter  their  positions, 
riding  the  changing  timbers  bent-kneed,  as  a  circus 
rider  treads  his  four  galloping  horses. 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL  329 

Then  all  at  once  down  by  the  face  something 
crashed.  The  entire  stream  became  alive.  It  hissed 
and  roared,  it  shrieked,  groaned  and  grumbled.  At 
first  slowly,  then  more  rapidly,  the  very  forefront  of 
the  center  melted  inward  and  forward  and  downward 
until  it  caught  the  fierce  rush  of  the  freshet  and  shot 
out  from  under  the  jam.  Far  up-stream,  bristling  and 
formidable,  the  tons  of  logs,  grinding  savagely  to- 
gether, swept  forward. 

The  six  men  and  Bryan  Moloney  —  who,  it  will  be 
remembered,  were  on  top  —  worked  until  the  last  mo- 
ment. When  the  logs  began  to  cave  under  them  so 
rapidly  that  even  the  expert  rivermen  found  difficulty 
in  "  staying  on  top,"  the  foreman  set  the  example  of 
hunting  safety. 

"  She  '  pulls,'  boys,"  he  yelled. 

Then  in  a  manner  wonderful  to  behold,  through  the 
smother  of  foam  and  spray,  through  the  crash  and  yell 
of  timbers  protesting  the  flood's  hurrying,  through  the 
leap  of  destruction,  the  drivers  zigzagged  calmly  and 
surely  to  the  shore. 

All  but  Jimmy  Powers.  He  poised  tense  and  eager 
on  the  crumbling  face  of  the  jam.  Almost  immediate- 
ly he  saw  what  he  wanted,  and  without  pause  sprang 
boldly  and  confidently  ten  feet  straight  downward,  to 
alight  with  accuracy  on  a  single  log  floating  free  in  the 
current.  And  then  in  the  very  glory  and  chaos  of  the 
jam  itself  he  was  swept  down-stream. 

After  a  moment  the  constant  acceleration  in  speed 
checked,  then  commenced  perceptibly  to  slacken.  At 
once  the  rest  of  the  crew  began  to  ride  down-stream. 
Each  struck  the  caulks  of  his  river  boots  strongly  into 
a  log,  and  on  such  unstable  vehicles  floated  miles  with 
the  current.  From  time  to  time,  as  Bryan  Moloney 
indicated,  one  of  them  went  ashore.  There,  usually  at 
a  bend  of  the  stream  where  the  likelihood  of  jamming 
was  great,  they  took  their  stands.  When  necessary. 


330  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

they  ran  out  over  the  face  of  the  river  to  separate  a 
congestion  likely  to  cause  trouble.  The  rest  of  the 
time  they  smoked  their  pipes. 

At  noon  they  ate  from  little  canvas  bags  which  had 
been  filled  that  morning  by  the  cookee.  At  sunset 
they  rode  other  logs  down  the  river  to  where  their 
camp  had  been  made  for  them.  There  they  ate  hugely, 
hung  their  ice-wet  garments  over  a  tall  framework  con- 
structed around  a  monster  fire,  and  turned  in  on  hem- 
lock branches. 

All  night  long  the  logs  slipped  down  the  moonlit 
current,  silently,  swiftly,  yet  without  haste.  The  por- 
cupines invaded  the  sleeping  camp.  From  the  whole 
length  of  the  river  rang  the  hollow  boom,  boom,  boom, 
of  timbers  striking  one  against  the  other. 

The  drive  was  on. 


Chapter  XL VII 


/N  the  meantime  the  main  body  of  the  crew  under 
Thorpe  and  his  foremen  were  briskly  tumbling  the 
logs  into  the  current.  Sometimes  under  the  urg- 
ing of  the  peaveys,  but  a  single  stick  would  slide  down ; 
or  again  a  double  tier  would  cascade  with  the  roar  of 
a  little  Niagara.  The  men  had  continually  to  keep  on 
the  tension  of  an  alert,  for  at  any  moment  they  were 
called  upon  to  exercise  their  best  judgment  and  quick- 
ness to  keep  from  being  carried  downward  with  the 
rush  of  the  logs.  Not  infrequently  a  frowning  sheer 
wall  of  forty  feet  would  hesitate  on  the  brink  of  plunge. 
Then  Shearer  himself  proved  his  right  to  the  title  of 
riverman. 

Shearer  wore  caulks  nearly  an  inch  in  length.  He 
had  been  known  to  ride  ten  miles,  without  shifting  his 
feet,  on  a  log  so  small  that  he  could  carry  it  without 
difficulty.  For  cool  nerve  he  was  unexcelled. 

"  I  don't  need  you  boys  here  any  longer,"  he  said 
quietly. 

When  the  men  had  all  withdrawn,  he  walked  confi- 
dently under  the  front  of  the  rollway,  glancing  with 
practiced  eye  at  the  perpendicular  wall  of  logs  over 
him.  Then,  as  a  man  pries  jack-straws,  he  clamped 
his  peavey  and  tugged  sharply.  At  once  the  rollway 
flattened  and  toppled.  A  mighty  splash,  a  hurl  of  fly- 
ing foam  and  crushing  timbers,  and  the  spot  on  which 
the  riverman  had  stood  was  buried  beneath  twenty  feet 
of  solid  green  wood.  To  Thorpe  it  seemed  that 
Shearer  must  have  been  overwhelmed,  but  the  river- 
man always  mysteriously  appeared  at  one  side  or  the 

331 


332  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

other,  nonchalant,  urging  the  men  to  work  before  the 
logs  should  have  ceased  to  move.  Tradition  claimed 
that  only  once  in  a  long  woods  life  had  Shearer  been 
forced  to  "  take  water  "before  a  breaking rollway :  and 
then  he  saved  his  peavey.  History  stated  that  he  had 
never  lost  a  man  on  the  river,  simply  and  solely  because 
he  invariably  took  the  dangerous  tasks  upon  himself. 

As  soon  as  the  logs  had  caught  the  current,  a  dozen 
men  urged  them  on.  With  their  short  peaveys,  the 
drivers  were  enabled  to  prevent  the  timbers  from 
swirling  in  the  eddies  —  one  of  the  first  causes  of  a 
jam.  At  last,  near  the  foot  of  the  flats,  they  abandoned 
them  to  the  stream,  confident  that  Moloney  and  his 
crew  would  see  to  their  passage  down  the  river. 

In  three  days  the  rollways  were  broken.  Now  it 
became  necessary  to  start  the  rear. 

For  this  purpose  Billy  Camp,  the  cook,  had  loaded 
his  cook-stove,  a  quantity  of  provisions,  and  a  supply 
of  bedding,  aboard  a  scow.  The  scow  was  built  of 
tremendous  hewn  timbers,  four  or  five  inches  thick,  to 
withstand  the  shock  of  the  logs.  At  either  end  were 
long  sweeps  to  direct  its  course.  The  craft  was  per- 
haps forty  feet  long,  but  rather  narrow,  in  order  that 
it  might  pass  easily  through  the  chute  of  a  dam.  It 
was  called  the  "  wanigan." 

Billy  Camp,  his  cookee,  and  his  crew  of  two  were 
now  doomed  to  tribulation.  The  huge,  unwieldy  craft 
from  that  moment  was  to  become  possessed  of  the 
devil.  Down  the  white  water  of  rapids  it  would  bump, 
smashing  obstinately  against  boulders,  impervious  to 
the  frantic  urging  of  the  long  sweeps ;  against  the  roots 
and  branches  of  the  streamside  it  would  scrape  with 
the  perverseness  of  a  vicious  horse;  in  the  broad 
reaches  it  would  sulk,  refusing  to  proceed ;  and  when 
expediency  demanded  its  pause,  it  would  drag  Billy 
Camp  and  his  entire  crew  at  the  rope's  end,  while  they 
tried  vainly  to  snub  it  against  successively  uprooted 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIi,  333 

trees  and  stumps.  When  at  last  the  wanigan  was 
moored  fast  for  the  night,  —  usually  a  mile  or  so  below 
the  spot  planned,  —  Billy  Camp  pushed  back  his  bat- 
tered old  brown  derby  hat,  the  badge  of  his  office, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief.  To  be  sure  he  and  his  men  had 
still  to  cut  wood,  construct  cooking  and  camp  fires, 
pitch  tents,  snip  browse,  and  prepare  supper  for 
seventy  men ;  but  the  hard  work  of  the  day  was  over. 
Billy  Camp  did  not  mind  rain  or  cold  —  he  would 
cheerfully  cook  away  with  the  water  dripping  from 
his  battered  derby  to  his  chubby  and  cold-purpled 
nose  —  but  he  did  mind  the  wanigan.  And  the  worst 
of  it  was,  he  got  no  sympathy  nor  aid  from  the  crew. 
From  either  bank  he  and  his  anxious  struggling  assist- 
ants were  greeted  with  ironic  cheers  and  facetious  re- 
marks. The  tribulations  of  the  wanigan  were  as  the 
salt  of  life  to  the  spectators. 

Billy  Camp  tried  to  keep  back  of  the  rear  in  clear 
water,  but  when  the  wanigan  so  disposed,  he  found 
himself  jammed  close  in  the  logs.  There  he  had  a 
chance  in  his  turn  to  become  spectator,  and  so  to  re- 
pay in  kind  some  of  the  irony  and  facetiousness. 

Along  either  bank,  among  the  bushes,  on  sandbars, 
and  in  trees,  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  logs  had  been 
stranded  when  the  main  drive  passed.  These  logs 
the  rear  crew  were  engaged  in  restoring  to  the  cur- 
rent. 

And  as  a  man  had  to  be  able  to  ride  any  kind  of  a 
log  in  any  water;  to  propel  that  log  by  jumping  on  it, 
by  rolling  it  squirrel  fashion  with  the  feet,  by  punting 
it  as  one  would  a  canoe ;  to  be  skillful  in  pushing,  pry- 
ing, and  poling  other  logs  from  the  quarter  deck  of 
the  same  cranky  craft ;  as  he  must  be  prepared  at  any 
and  all  times  to  jump  waist  deep  into  the  river,  to  work 
in  ice-water  hours  at  a  stretch ;  as  he  was  called  upon 
to  break  the  most  dangerous  jams  on  the  river,  repre- 
senting, as  they  did,  the  accumulation  which  the  jam 


334  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

crew  had  left  behind  them,  it  was  naturally  considered 
the  height  of  glory  to  belong  to  the  rear  crew.  Here 
were  the  best  of  the  Fighting  Forty,  —  men  with  a 
reputation  as  "  white-water  birlers  "  —  men  afraid  of 
nothing. 

Every  morning  the  crews  were  divided  into  two  sec- 
,ions  under  Kerlie  and  Jack  Hyland.  Each  crew  had 
charge  of  one  side  of  the  river,  with  the  task  of  clean- 
ing it  thoroughly  of  all  stranded  and  entangled  logs. 
Scotty  Parsons  exercised  a  general  supervisory  eye 
over  both  crews.  Shearer  and  Thorpe  traveled  back 
and  forth  the  length  of  the  drive,  riding  the  logs  down 
stream,  but  taking  to  a  partly  submerged  pole  trail 
when  ascending  the  current.  On  the  surface  of  the 
river  in  the  clear  water  floated  two  long  graceful  boats 
called  bateaux.  These  were  in  charge  of  expert  boat- 
men, —  men  able  to  propel  their  craft  swiftly  forwards, 
backwards  and  sideways,  through  all  kinds  of  water. 
They  carried  in  racks  a  great  supply  of  pike-poles, 
peaveys,  axes,  rope  and  dynamite,  for  use  in  various 
emergencies.  Intense  rivalry  existed  as  to  which  crew 
"  sacked  "  the  farthest  down  stream  in  the  course  of 
the  day.  There  was  no  need  to  urge  the  men.  Some 
stood  upon  the  logs,  pushing  mightily  with  the  long 
pike-poles.  Others,  waist  deep  in  the  water,  clamped 
the  jaws  'of  their  peaveys  into  the  stubborn  timbers, 
and,  shoulder  bent,  slid  them  slowly  but  surely  into  the 
swifter  waters.  Still  others,  lining  up  on  either  side 
of  one  of  the  great  brown  tree  trunks,  carried  it  bodily 
to  its  appointed  place.  From  one  end  of  the  rear  to 
the  other,  shouts,  calls,  warnings,  and  jokes  flew  back 
and  forth.  Once  or  twice  a  vast  roar  of  Homeric 
laughter  went  up  as  some  unfortunate  slipped  and 
soused  into  the  water.  When  the  current  slacked,  and 
the  logs  hesitated  in  their  run,  the  entire  crew  hastened, 
bobbing  from  log  to  log,  down  river  to  see  about  it. 
Then  they  broke  the  jam,  standing  surely  on  the  edge 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  335 

of  the  great  darkness,  while  the  ice  water  sucked  in 
and  out  of  their  shoes. 

Behind  the  rear  Big  Junko  poled  his  bateau  back- 
wards and  forwards  exploding  dynamite.  Many  of 
,  the  bottom  tiers  of  logs  in  the  rollways  had  been 
.frozen  down,  and  Big  Junko  had  to  loosen  them  from 
the  bed  of  the  stream.  He  was  a  big  man,  this,  as  his 
nickname  indicated,  built  of  many  awkwardnesses. 
His  cheekbones  were  high,  his  nose  flat,  his  lips  thick 
and  slobbery.  He  sported  a  wide,  ferocious  strag- 
gling mustache  and  long  eye-brows,  under  which 
gleamed  little  fierce  eyes.  His  forehead  sloped  back 
like  a  beast's,  but  was  always  hidden  by  a  disreputable 
felt  hat.  Big  Junko  did  not  know  much,  and  had  the 
passions  of  a  wild  animal,  but  he  was  a  reckless  river- 
man  and  devoted  to  Thorpe.  Just  now  he  exploded 
dynamite. 

The  sticks  of  powder  were  piled  amidships.  Big 
Junko  crouched  over  them,  inserting  the  fuses  and 
caps,  closing  the  openings  with  soap,  finally  lighting 
them,  and  dropping  them  into  the  water  alongside, 
where  they  immediately  sank.  Then  a  few  strokes  of 
s.  short  paddle  took  him  barely  out  of  danger.  He 
huddled  down  in  his  craft,  waiting.  One,  two,  three 
seconds  passed.  Then  a  hollow  boom  shook  the 
stream.  A  cloud  of  water  sprang  up,  strangely  beau- 
tiful. After  a  moment  the  great  brown  logs  rose  sud- 
denly to  the  surface  from  below,  one  after  the  other, 
like  leviathans  of  the  deep.  And  Junko  watched,  dim- 
ly fascinated,  in  his  rudimentary  animal's  brain,  by  the 
sight  of  the  power  he  had  evoked  to  his  aid. 

When  night  came  the  men  rode  down  stream  to 
where  the  wanigan  had  made  camp.  There  they  slept, 
often  in  blankets  wetted  by  the  wanigan's  eccentrici- 
ties, to  leap  to  their  feet  at  the  first  cry  in  early  morn- 
ing. Some  days  it  rained,  in  which  case  they  were 
wet  all  the  time.  Almost  invariably  there  was  a  jam 


336  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

to  break,  though  strangely  enough  almost  every  one 
of  the  old-timers  believed  implicitly  that  "  in  the  full  of 
the  moon  logs  will  run  free  at  night." 

Thorpe  and  Tim  Shearer  nearly  always  slept  in  a 
dog  tent  at  the  rear ;  though  occasionally  they  passed 
the  night  at  Dam  Two,  where  Bryan  Moloney  and  his 
crew  were  already  engaged  in  sluicing  the  logs  through 
the  chute. 

The  affair  was  simple  enough.  Long  booms  ar- 
ranged in  the  form  of  an  open  V  guided  the  drive  to 
the  sluice  gate,  through  which  a  smooth  apron  of  water 
rushed  to  turmoil  in  an  eddying  pool  below.  Two  men 
tramped  steadily  backwards  and  forwards  on  the 
booms,  urging  the  logs  forward  by  means  of  long  pike 
poles  to  where  the  suction  could  seize  them.  Below 
the  dam,  the  push  of  the  sluice  water  forced  them  sev- 
eral miles  down  stream,  where  the  rest  of  Bryan  Mo- 
loney's  crew  took  them  in  charge. 

Thus  through  the  wide  gate  nearly  three-quarters 
of  a  million  feet  an  hour  could  be  run  —  a  quantity 
more  than  sufficient  to  keep  pace  with  the  exertions 
of  the  rear.  The  matter  was,  of  course,  more  or  less 
delayed  by  the  necessity  of  breaking  out  such  roll- 
ways  as  they  encountered  from  time  to  time  on  the 
banks.  At  length,  however,  the  last  of  the  logs  drift- 
ed into  the  wide  dam  pool.  The  rear  had  arrived  at 
Dam  Two,  and  Thorpe  congratulated  himself  that  one 
stage  of  his  journey  had  been  completed.  Billy  Camp 
began  to  worry  about  shooting  the  wanigan  through 
the  sluice-way. 


Chapter  XLVIII 


rHE  j  ear  had  been  tenting  at  the  dam  for  two 
days,  and  was  about  ready  to  break  camp,  when 
Jimmy  Powers  swung  across  the  trail  to  tell 
them  of  the  big  jam. 

Ten  miles  along  the  river  bed,  the  stream  dropped 
over  a  little  half-falls  into  a  narrow,  rocky  gorge.  It 
was  always  an  anxious  spot  for  the  river  drivers.  In 
fact,  the  plunging  of  the  logs  head-on  over  the  fall 
had  so  gouged  out  the  soft  rock  below,  that  an  eddy 
of  great  power  had  formed  in  the  basin.  Shearer  and 
Thorpe  had  often  discussed  the  advisability  of  con- 
structing an  artificial  apron  of  logs  to  receive  the  im- 
pact. Here,  in  spite  of  all  efforts,  the  jam  had  formed, 
—  first  a  little  center  of  a  few  logs  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  dividing  the  current,  and  shunting  the  logs 
to  right  and  left ;  then  "  wings  "  growing  out  from 
either  bank,  built  up  from  logs  shunted  too  violently ; 
finally  a  complete  stoppage  of  the  channel,  and  the 
consequent  rapid  piling  up  as  the  pressure  of  the  drive 
increased.  Now  the  bed  was  completely  filled,  far 
above  the  level  of  the  falls,  by  a  tangle  that  defied  the 
jam  crew's  best  efforts. 

The  rear  at  once  took  the  trail  down  the  river. 
Thorpe  and  Shearer  and  Scotty  Parsons  looked  over 
the  ground. 

"  She  may  '  pull,'  if  she  gets  a  good  start,"  decided 
Tim. 

Without  delay  the  entire  crew  was  set  to  work. 
Nearly  a  hundred  men  can  pick  a  great  many  logs  in 
the  course  of  a  day.  Seveial  times  the  jam  started, 

337 


338  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

but  always  "  plugged  "  before  the  motion  had  become 
irresistible.  This  was  mainly  because  the  rocky  walls 
narrowed  at  a  slight  bend  to  the  west,  so  that  the  drive 
was  throttled,  as  it  were.  It  was  hoped  that  perhaps 
the  middle  of  the  jam  might  burst  through  here,  leav- 
ing the  wings  stranded.  The  hope  was  groundless. 

"  We'll  have  to  shoot,"  Shearer  reluctantly  decided. 

The  men  were  withdrawn.  Scotty  Parsons  cut  a 
sapling  twelve  feet  long,  and  trimmed  it.  Big  Junko 
thawed  his  dynamite  at  a  little  fire,  opening  the  ends 
of  the  packages  in  order  that  the  steam  generated 
might  escape.  Otherwise  the  pressure  inside  the  oiled 
paper  of  the  package  was  capable  of  exploding  the 
whole  affair.  When  the  powder  was  warm,  Scotty 
bound  twenty  of  the  cartridges  around  the  end  of  the 
sapling,  adjusted  a  fuse  in  one  of  them,  and  soaped 
the  opening  to  exclude  water.  Then  Big  Junko  thrust 
the  long  javelin  down  into  the  depths  of  the  jam,  leav- 
ing a  thin  stream  of  smoke  behind  him  as  he  turned 
away.  With  sinister,  evil  eye  he  watched  the  smoke 
for  an  instant,  then  zigzagged  awkwardly  over  the  jam, 
the  long,  ridiculous  tails  of  his  brown  cutaway  coat 
flopping  behind  him  as  he  leaped.  A  scant  moment 
later  the  hoarse  dynamite  shouted. 

Great  chunks  of  timber  shot  to  an  inconceivable 
height;  entire  logs  lifted  bodily  into  the  air  with  the 
motion  of  a  fish  jumping ;  a  fountain  of  water  gleamed 
against  the  sun  and  showered  down  in  fine  rain.  The 
jam  shrugged  and  settled.  That  was  all ;  the  "  shot  " 
had  failed. 

The  men  ran  forward,  examining  curiously  the  great 
hole  in  the  log  formation. 

"  We'll  have  to  flood  her,"  said  Thorpe. 

So  all  the  gates  of  the  dam  were  raised,  and  the  tor- 
rent tried  its  hand.  It  had  no  effect.  Evidently  the 
affair  was  not  one  of  violence,  but  of  patience.  The 
crew  went  doggedly  to  Work. 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  339 

Day  after  day  the  clank,  dank,  clink  of  the  peaveys 
sounded  with  the  regularity  of  machinery.  The  only 
practicable  method  was  to  pick  away  the  flank  logs, 
leaving  a  long  tongue  pointing  down-stream  from 
the  center  to  start  when  it  would.  This  happened 
time  and  again,  but  always  failed  to  take  with  it 
the  main  jam.  It  was  cruel  hard  work;  a  man  who 
has  lifted  his  utmost  strength  into  a  peavey  knows 
that.  Any  but  the  Fighting  Forty  would  have  grum- 
bled. 

Collins,  the  bookkeeper,  came  up  to  view  the  tangle. 
Later  a  photographer  from  Marquette  took  some 
views,  which,  being  exhibited,  attracted  a  great  deal 
of  attention,  so  that  by  the  end  of  the  week  a  number 
of  curiosity  seekers  were  driving  over  every  day  to  see 
the  Big  Jam.  A  certain  Chicago  journalist  in  search 
of  balsam  health  of  lungs  even  sent  to  his  paper  a  little 
item.  This,  unexpectedly,  brought  Wallace  Carpen- 
ter to  the  spot.  Although  reassured  as  to  the  gravity 
of  the  situation,  he  remained  to  see. 

The  place  was  an  amphitheater  for  such  as  chose 
to  be  spectators.  They  could  stand  or  sit  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  gorge  cliffs,  overlooking  the  river,  the  fall, 
and  the  jam.  As  the  cliff  was  barely  sixty  feet  high, 
the  view  lacked  nothing  in  clearness. 

At  last  Shearer  became  angry. 

"  We've  been  monkeying  long  enough,"  said  he. 
"  Next  time  we'll  leave  a  center  that  will  go  out.  W«'ll 
shut  the  dams  down  tight  and  dry-pick  out  two  wings 
that'll  start  her." 

The  dams  were  first  run  at  full  speed,  and  then  shut 
down.  Hardly  a  drop  of  water  flowed  in  the  bed  of 
the  stream.  The  crews  set  laboriously  to  work  to  pull 
and  roll  the  logs  out  in  such  flat  fashion  that  a  head 
of  water  should  send  them  out. 

This  was  even  harder  work  than  the  other,  for  they 
had  not  the  floating  power  of  water  to  help  them  in 


240  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

the  lifting.  As  usual,  part  of  the  men  worked  below, 
part  above. 

Jimmy  Powers,  curly-haired,  laughing-faced,  was  ir- 
repressible. He  badgered  the  others  until  they  threw 
bark  at  him  and  menaced  him  with  their  peaveys. 
Always  he  had  at  his  tongue's  end  the  proper  quip  for 
the  occasion,  so  that  in  the  long  run  the  work  was 
lightened  by  him.  When  the  men  stopped  to  think  at 
all,  they  thought  of  Jimmy  Powers  with  very  kindly 
hearts,  for  it  was  known  that  he  had  had  more  trouble 
than  most,  and  that  the  coin  was  not  made  too  small 
for  him  to  divide  with  a  needy  comrade.  To  those 
who  had  seen  his  mask  of  whole-souled  good-nature 
fade  into  serious  sympathy,  Jimmy  Powers's  poor  little 
jokes  were  very  funny  indeed. 

"  Did  'je  see  th'  Swede  at  the  circus  las'  summer?  " 
he  would  howl  to  Red  Jacket  on  the  top  tier. 

"  No,"  Red  Jacket  would  answer,  "  was  he  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Jimmy  Powers  would  reply ;  then,  after  a 
pause  —  "  in  a  cage !  " 

It  was  a  poor  enough  jest,  yet  if  you  had  been  there, 
you  would  have  found  that  somehow  the  log  had  in  the 
meantime  leaped  of  its  own  accord  from  that  difficult 
position. 

Thorpe  approved  thoroughly  of  Jimmy  Powers ;  he 
thought  him  a  good  influence.  He  told  Wallace  so, 
standing  among  the  spectators  on  the  cliff-top. 

'"  He  is  all  right,"  said  Thorpe.  "  I  wish  I  had  more 
like  him.  The  others  are  good  boys,  too." 

Five  men  were  at  the  moment  tugging  futilely  at  a 
reluctant  timber.  They  were  attempting  to  roll  one 
end  of  it  over  the  side  of  another  projecting  log,  but 
were  continually  foiled,  because  the  other  end  was 
jammed  fast.  Each  bent  his  knees,  inserting  his  shoul- 
der under  the  projecting  peavey  stock,  to  straighten 
in  a  mighty  effort. 

"  Hire  a  boy !  "     "  Get  some  powder  of  Junko !  " 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  341 

"  Have  Jimmy  talk  it  out !  "  "  Try  that  little  one  over 
by  the  corner,"  called  the  men  on  top  of  the  jam. 

Everybody  laughed,  of  course.  It  was  a  fine  spring 
day,  clear-eyed  and  crisp,  with  a  hint  of  new  foliage  in 
the  thick  buds  of  the  trees.  The  air  was  so  pellucid 
that  one  distinguished  without  difficulty  the  straight 
entrance  to  the  gorge  a  mile  away,  and  even  the  West 
Bend,  fully  five  miles  distant. 

Jimmy  Powers  took  off  his  cap  and  wiped  his  fore- 
head. 

"  You  boys,"  he  remarked  politely,  "  think  you  are 
boring  with  a  mighty  big  auger." 

"  My  God !  "  screamed  one  of  the  spectators  on  top 
of  the  cliff. 

At  the  same  instant  Wallace  Carpenter  seized  his 
friend's  arm  and  pointed. 

Down  the  bed  of  the  stream  from  the  upper  bend 
rushed  a  solid  wall  of  water  several  feet  high.  It  flung 
itself  forward  with  the  headlong  impetus  of  a  cascade. 
Even  in  the  short  interval  between  the  visitor's  ex- 
clamation and  Carpenter's  rapid  gesture,  it  had 
loomed  into  sight,  twisted  a  dozen  trees  from  the  river 
bank,  and  foamed  into  the  entrance  of  the  gorge.  An 
instant  later  it  collided  with  the  tail  of  the  jam. 

Even  in  the  railroad  rush  of  those  few  moments  sev- 
eral things  happened.  Thorpe  leaped  for  a  rope.  The 
crew  working  on  top  of  the  jam  ducked  instinctively 
to  right  and  left  and  began  to  scramble  towards  safety. 
The  men  below,  at  first  bewildered  and  not  compre- 
hending, finally  understood,  and  ran  towards  the  face 
of  the  jam  with  the  intention  of  clambering  up  it. 
There  could  be  no  escape  in  the  narrow  canon  below, 
the  walls  of  which  rose  sheer. 

Then  the  flood  hit  square.  It  was  the  impact  of  ir- 
resistible power.  A  great  sheet  of  water  rose  like  surf 
from  the  tail  of  the  jam ;  a  mighty  cataract  poured 
down  over  its  surface,  lifting  the  free  logs ;  from  either 


342  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

wing  timbers  crunched,  split,  rose  suddenly  into 
wracked  prominence,  twisted  beyond  the  semblance 
of  themselves.  Here  and  there  single  logs  were  even 
projected  bodily  upwards,  as  an  apple  seed  is  shot  from 
between  the  thumb  and  forefinger.  Then  the  jam 
moved. 

Scotty  Parsons,  Jack  Hyland,  Red  Jacket,  and  the 
forty  or  fifty  top  men  had  reached  the  shore.  By  the 
wriggling  activity  which  is  a  riverman's  alone,  they 
succeeded  in  pulling  themselves  beyond  the  snap  of 
death's  jaws.  It  was  a  narrow  thing  for  most  of  them, 
and  a  miracle  for  some. 

Jimmy  Powers,  Archie  Harris,  Long  Pine  Jim,  Big 
Nolan,  and  Mike  Moloney,  the  brother  of  Bryan,  were 
in  worse  case.  They  were,  as  has  been  said,  engaged 
in  "  flattening  "  part  of  the  jam  about  eight  or  ten  rods 
below  the  face  of  it.  When  they  finally  understood 
that  the  affair  was  one  of  escape,  they  ran  towards  the 
jam,  hoping  to  climb  out.  Then  the  crash  came. 
They  heard  the  roar  of  the  waters,  the  wrecking  of  the 
timbers,  they  saw  the  logs  bulge  outwards  in  anticipa- 
tion of  the  break.  Immediately  they  turned  and  fled, 
they  knew  not  where. 

All  but  Jimmy  Powers.  He  stopped  short  in  his 
tracks,  and  threw  his  battered  old  felt  hat  defiantly  full 
into  the  face  of  the  destruction  hanging  over  him. 
Then,  his  bright  hair  blowing  in  the  wind  of  death,  he 
turned  to  the  spectators  standing  helpless  and  para- 
lyzed, forty  feet  above  him. 

It  was  an  instant's  impression,  —  the  arrested  mo- 
tion seen  in  the  flash  of  lightning  —  and  yet  to  the 
onlookers  it  had  somehow  the  quality  of  time.  For 
perceptible  duration  it  seemed  to  them  they  stared  at 
the  contrast  between  the  raging  hell  above  and  the  yet 
peaceable  river  bed  below.  They  were  destined  to  re- 
member that  picture  the  rest  of  their  natural  lives,  in 
such  detail  that  each  one  of  them  could  almost  have 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  343 

reproduced  it  photographically  by  simply  closing  his 
eyes.  Yet  afterwards,  when  they  attempted  to  recall 
definitely  the  impression,  they  knew  it  could  have  last- 
ed but  a  fraction  of  a  second,  for  the  reason  that,  clear 
and  distinct  in  each  man's  mind,  the  images  of  the  flee- 
ing men  retained  definite  attitudes.  It  was  the  in- 
stantaneous photography  of  events. 

"  So  long,  boys,"  they  heard  Jimmy  Powers's  voice. 
Then  the  rope  Thorpe  had  thrown  fell  across  a  caldron 
of  tortured  waters  and  of  tossing  logs. 


Chapter    XLIX 


y^vURING  perhaps  ten  seconds  the  survivors 
I  Iwatched  the  end  of  Thorpe's  rope  trailing  in  the 
J.  ^Sftood.  Then  the  young  man  with  a  deep  sigh 
began  to  pull  it  towards  him. 

At  once  a  hundred  surmises,  questions,  ejaculations 
broke  out. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  cried  Wallace  Carpenter. 

"  What  was  that  man's  name?  "  asked  the  Chicago 
journalist  with  the  eager  instinct  of  his  profession. 

"  This  is  terrible,  terrible,  terrible !  "  a  white-haired 
physician  from  Marquette  kept  repeating  over  and 
over. 

A  half  dozen  ran  towards  the  point  of  the  cliff  to  peer 
down  stream,  as  though  they  could  hope  to  distin- 
guish anything  in  that  waste  of  flood  water. 

"  The  dam's  gone  out,"  replied  Thorpe.  "  I  don't 
understand  it.  Everything  was  in  good  shape,  as  far 
as  I  could  see.  It  didn't  act  like  an  ordinary  break. 
The  water  came  too  fast.  Why,  it  was  as  dry  as  a 
bone  until  just  as  that  wave  came  along.  An  ordinary 
break  would  have  eaten  through  little  by  little  before 
it  burst,  and  Davis  should  have  been  able  to  stop  it. 
This  came  all  at  once,  as  if  the  dam  had  disappeared. 
I  don't  see." 

His  mind  of  the  professional  had  already  began  to 
query  causes. 

"How  about  the  men?"  asked  Wallace.  "Isn't 
there  something  I  can  do  ?  " 

"  You  can  head  a  hunt  down  the  river,"  answered 
Thorpe.  "  I  think  it  is  useless  until  the  water  goes 

344 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  345 

down.  Poor  Jimmy.  He  was  one  of  the  best  men 
I  had.  I  wouldn't  have  had  this  happen " 

The  horror  of  the  scene  was  at  last  beginning  to  fil- 
ter through  numbness  into  Wallace  Carpenter's  im- 
pressionable imagination. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  cried  vehemently.  "  There  is  some- 
thing criminal  about  it  to  me !  I'd  rather  lose  every 
log  in  the  river !  " 

Thorpe  looked  at  him  curiously.  "  It  is  one  of  the 
chances  of  war,"  said  he,  unable  to  refrain  from  the 
utterance  of  his  creed.  "  We  all  know  it." 

"  I'd  better  divide  the  crew  and  take  in  both  banks 
of  the  river,"  suggested  Wallace  in  his  constitutional 
necessity  of  doing  something. 

"  See  if  you  can't  get  volunteers  from  this  crowd," 
suggested  Thorpe.  "  I  can  let  you  have  two  men  to 
show  you  trails.  If  you  can  make  it  that  way,  it  will 
help  me  out.  I  need  as  many  of  the  crew  as  possible 
to  use  this  flood  water." 

"  Oh,  Harry,"  cried  Carpenter,  shocked.  "  You 
can't  be  going  to  work  again  to-day  after  that  horrible 
sight,  before  we  have  made  the  slightest  effort  to  re- 
cover the  bodies !  " 

"  If  the  bodies  can  be  recovered,  they  shall  be,"  re- 
plied Thorpe  quietly.  "  But  the  drive  will  not  wait. 
We  have  no  dams  to  depend  on  now,  you  must  remem- 
ber, and  we  shall  have  to  get  out  on  freshet  water." 

"  Your  men  won't  work.  I'd  refuse  just  as  they 
will ! "  cried  Carpenter,  his  sensibilities  still  suffering. 

Thorpe  smiled  proudly.  "  You  do  not  know  them. 
They  are  mine.  I  hold  them  in  the  hollow  of  my 
hand!" 

"  By  Jove ! "  cried  the  journalist  in  sudden  enthusi- 
asm. "  By  Jove !  that  is  magnificent  I " 

The  men  of  the  river  crew  had  crouched  on  their 
narrow  footholds  while  the  jam  went  out.  Each  had 
dung  to  his  peavey,  as  is  the  habit  of  rivermen.  Down 


346  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

the  current  past  their  feet  swept  the  debris  of  flood. 
Soon  logs  began  to  swirl  by,  —  at  first  few,  then  many 
—  from  the  remaining  rollways  which  the  river  had 
automatically  broken.  In  a  little  time  the  eddy  caught 
up  some  of  these  logs,  and  immediately  the  inception 
of  another  jam  threatened.  The  rivermen,  without 
hesitation,  as  calmly  as  though  catastrophe  had  not 
thrown  the  weight  of  its  moral  terror  against  their  sto- 
icism, sprang,  peavey  in  hand,  to  the  insistent  work. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  the  journalist  again.  "  That  is 
magnificent !  They  are  working  over  the  spot  where 
their  comrades  died !  " 

Thorpe's  face  lit  with  gratification.  He  turned  to 
the  young  man. 

"  You  see,"  he  said  in  proud  simplicity. 

With  the  added  danger  of  freshet  water,  the  work 
went  on. 

At  this  moment  Tim  Shearer  approached  from  in- 
land, his  clothes  dripping  wet,  but  his  face  retaining  its 
habitual  expression  of  iron  calmness.  "  Anybody 
caught  ?  "  was  his  first  question  as  he  drew  near. 

"  Five  men  under  the  face,"  replied  Thorpe  briefly. 

Shearer  cast  a  glance  at  the  river.  He  needed  to 
be  told  no  more. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  said  he.  "  The  rollways  must 
be  all  broken  out.  It's  saved  us  that  much,  but  the 
freshet  water  won't  last  long.  It's  going  to  be  a  dose 
squeak  to  get  'em  out  now.  Don't  exactly  figure  on 
what  struck  the  dam.  Thought  first  I'd  go  right  up 
that  way,  but  then  I  came  down  to  see  about  the  boys." 

Carpenter  could  not  understand  this  apparent  cal- 
lousness on  the  part  of  men  in  whom  he  had  always 
thought  to  recognize  a  fund  of  rough  but  genuine  feel- 
ing. To  him  the  sacredness  of  death  was  incompatible 
with  the  insistence  of  work.  To  these  others  the  two, 
of  grim  necessity,  went  hand  in  hand. 

"  Where  were  you  ?  "  asked  Thorpe  of  Shearer. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  347 

**  On  the  pole  trail.     I  got  in  a  little,  as  you  see." 

In  reality  the  foreman  had  had  a  close  call  for  his 
life.  A  toughly-rooted  basswood  alone  had  saved 
him. 

"  We'd  better  go  up  and  take  a  look,"  he  suggested, 
*  Th*  boys  has  things  going  here  all  right" 

The  two  men  turned  towards  the  brush. 

"  Hi,  Tim,"  called  a  voice  behind  them. 

Red  Jacket  appeared  clambering  up  the  cliff. 

"  Jack  told  me  to  give  this  to  you,"  he  panted,  hold' 
ing  out  a  chunk  of  strangely  twisted  wood. 

"  Where  'd  he  get  this  ?  "  inquired  Thorpe,  quickly, 
**  It's  a  piece  of  the  dam,"  he  explained  to  Wallace* 
who  had  drawn  near. 

"  Picked  it  out  of  the  current,"  replied  the  man. 

The  foreman  and  his  boss  bent  eagerly  over  the 
morsel.  Then  they  stared  with  solemnity  into  each 
Other's  eyes. 

"  Dynamite,  by  God  I "  exclaimed  Shearer. 


Chapter  L 


to  .  ^OR  a  moment  the  three  men  stared  at  each 
rj    other  without  speaking. 

JL  "What  does   it   mean?"  almost   whispered 

Carpenter. 

"  Mean  ?  Foul  play  1  "  snarled  Thorpe.  "  Come 
on,  Tim." 

The  two  struck  into  the  brush,  threading  the  paths 
with  the  ease  of  woodsmen.  It  was  necessary  to  keep 
to  the  high  inland  ridges  for  the  simple  reason  that  the 
pole  trail  had  by  now  become  impassable.  Wallace 
Carpenter,  attempting  to  follow  them,  ran,  stumbled, 
and  fell  through  brush  that  continually  whipped  his 
face  and  garments,  continually  tripped  his  feet.  All 
he  could  obtain  was  a  vanishing  glimpse  of  his  com- 
panions' backs.  Thorpe  and  his  foreman  talked 
briefly. 

"  It's  Morrison  and  Daly,"  surmised  Shearer.  "  I 
left  them  'count  of  a  trick  like  that.  They  wanted  me 
to  take  charge  of  Perkinson's  drive  and  hang  her  a 
purpose.  I  been  suspecting  something  —  they've  been 
layin'  too  low  " 

Thorpe  answered  nothing.  Through  the  site  of  the 
old  dam  they  found  a  torrent  pouring  from  the  nar- 
rowed pond,  at  the  end  of  which  the  dilapidated  wings 
flapping  in  the  current  attested  the  former  structure. 
Davis  stood  staring  at  the  current. 

Thorpe  strode  forward  and  shook  him  violently  by 
the  shoulder. 

"  How  did  this  happen  ?  "  he  demanded  hoarsely. 
"  Speak  1" 

348 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  349 

The  man  turned  to  him  in  a  daze.  "  I  don't  know," 
le  answered. 

"  You  ought  to  know.  How  was  that  '  shot '  ex- 
ploded ?  How  did  they  get  in  here  without  you  seeing 
them  ?  Answer  me !  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  repeated  the  man.  "  I  jest  went 
over  in  th'  bresh  to  kill  a  few  pa'tridges,  and  when  I 
come  back  I  found  her  this  way.  I  wasn't  goin'  to 
close  down  for  three  hours  yet,  and  I  thought  they  was 
no  use  a  hangin'  around  here." 

"  Were  you  hired  to  watch  this  dam,  or  weren't 
you  ?  "  demanded  the  tense  voice  of  Thorpe.  "  Answer 
me,  you  fool." 

"  Yes,  I  was,"  returned  the  man,  a  shade  of  aggres- 
sion creeping  into  his  voice. 

"  Well,  you've  done  it  well.  You've  cost  me  my 
dam,  and  you've  killed  five  men.  If  the  crew  finds  out 
about  you,  you'll  go  over  the  falls,  sure.  You  get  out 
of  here  1  Pike !  Don't  you  ever  let  me  see  your  face 
again !  " 

The  man  blanched  as  he  thus  learned  of  his  com- 
rades' deaths.  Thorpe  thrust  his  face  at  him,  lashed 
by  circumstances  beyond  his  habitual  self-control. 

"  It's  men  like  you  who  make  the  trouble,"  he 
stormed.  "  Damn  fools  who  say  they  didn't  mean 
to.  It  isn't  enough  not  to  mean  to.  They  should 
wean  not  to!  I  don't  ask  you  to  think.  I  just  want 
you  to  do  what  I  tell  you,  and  you  can't  even  do 
that." 

He  threw  his  shoulder  into  a  heavy  blow  that 
reached  the  dam  watcher's  face,  and  followed  it  imme- 
diately by  another.  Then  Shearer  caught  his  arm, 
motioning  the  dazed  and  bloody  victim  of  the  attack 
to  get  out  of  sight.  Thorpe  shook  his  foreman  off 
with  one  impatient  motion,  and  strode  away  up  the 
river,  his  head  erect,  his  eyes  flashing,  his  nostrils  dis- 
tended. 


350  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

"  I  reckon  you'd  better  mosey,"  Shearer  dryly  ad- 
vised  the  dam  watcher ;  and  followed. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  two  men  reached  Dam 
Three,  or  rather  the  spot  on  which  Dam  Three  had 
stood.  The  same  spectacle  repeated  itself  here,  ex- 
cept that  Ellis,  the  dam  watcher,  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen. 

"  The  dirty  whelps,"  cried  Thorpe,  "  they  did  a  good 
job!" 

He  thrashed  about  here  and  there,  and  so  came 
across  Ellis  blindfolded  and  tied.  When  released,  the 
dam  watcher  was  unable  to  give  any  account  of  his 
assailants. 

"  They  came  up  behind  me  while  I  was  cooking,"  he 
said.  "  One  of  'em  grabbed  me  and  the  other  one 
kivered  my  eyes.  Then  I  hears  the  '  shot '  and  knows 
there's  trouble." 

Thorpe  listened  in  silence.  Shearer  asked  a  few 
questions.  After  the  low-voiced  conversation  Thorpe 
arose  abruptly. 

"  Where  you  going  ?  "  asked  Shearer. 

But  the  young  man  did  not  reply.  He  swung,  with 
the  same  long,  nervous  stride,  into  the  down-river 
trail. 

Until  late  that  night  the  three  men  —  for  Ellis  in- 
sisted on  accompanying  them  —  hurried  through  the 
forest.  Thorpe  walked  tirelessly,  upheld  by  his  violent 
but  repressed  excitement.  When  his  hat  fell  from  his 
head,  he  either  did  not  notice  the  fact,  or  did  not  care 
to  trouble  himself  for  its  recovery,  so  he  glanced 
through  the  trees  bare-headed,  his  broad  white  brow 
gleaming  in  the  moonlight.  Shearer  noted  the  fire  in 
his  eyes,  and  from  the  coolness  of  his  greater  age, 
counselled  moderation. 

"  I  wouldn't  stir  the  boys  up,"  he  panted,  for  the 
pace  was  very  swift.  "  They'll  kill  some  one  over 
there,  it'll  be  murder  on  both  sides." 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  351 

He  received  no  answer.  About  midnight  they  came 
io  the  camp. 

Two  great  fires  leaped  among  the  trees,  and  the  men, 
past  the  idea  of  sleep,  grouped  between  them,  talking. 
The  lesson  of  twisted  timbers  was  not  lost  to  their 
experience,  and  the  evening  had  brought  its  accumula- 
tion of  slow  anger  against  the  perpetrators  of  the  out- 
rage. These  men  were  not  given  to  oratorical  mouth- 
ings,  but  their  low-voiced  exchanges  between  the  puff- 
ings of  a  pipe  led  to  a  steadier  purpose  than  that  of 
hysteria.  Even  as  the  woodsmen  joined  their  group, 
they  had  reached  the  intensity  of  execution.  Across 
their  purpose  Thorpe  threw  violently  his  personality. 

"  You  must  not  go,"  he  commanded. 

Through  their  anger  they  looked  at  him  askance. 

"  I  forbid  it,"  Thorpe  cried. 

They  shrugged  their  indifference  and  arose.  This 
was  an  affair  of  caste  brotherhood ;  and  the  blood  of 
their  mates  cried  out  to  them. 

"The  work,"  Thorpe  shouted  hoarsely.  "The 
work!  We  must  get  those  logs  outl  We  haven't 
time !  " 

But  the  Fighting  Forty  had  not  Thorpe's  ideal. 
Success  meant  a  day's  work  well  done ;  while  ven- 
geance stood  for  a  righting  of  the  realities  which  had 
been  unrighteously  overturned.  Thorpe's  dry-eyed, 
burning,  almost  mad  insistence  on  the  importance  of 
the  day's  task  had  not  its  ordinary  force.  They  looked 
upon  him  from  a  standpoint  apart,  calmly,  dispassion- 
ately, as  one  looks  on  a  petulant  child.  The  grim  call 
of  tragedy  had  lifted  them  above  little  mundane  things. 

Then  swiftly  between  the  white,  strained  face  of  the 
madman  trying  to  convince  his  heart  that  his  mind 
had  been  right,  and  the  fanatically  exalted  rivermen, 
interposed  the  sanity  of  Radway.  The  old  jobber 
faced  the  men  calmly,  almost  humorously,  and  some- 
how the  very  bigness  of  the  man  commanded  atten- 


352  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

tion.  When  he  spoke,  his  coarse,  good-natured,  every- 
day voice  fell  through  the  tense  situation,  clarifying 
it,  restoring  it  to  the  normal. 

"  You  fellows  make  me  sick,"  said  he.  "  You 
haven't  got  the  sense  God  gave  a  rooster.  Don't  you 
see  you're  playing  right  in  those  fellows'  hands? 
What  do  you  suppose  they  dynamited  them  dams  for  ? 
To  kill  our  boys  ?  Don't  you  believe  it  for  a  minute. 
They  never  dreamed  we  was  dry  pickin'  that  jam. 
They  sent  some  low-lived  whelp  down  there  to  hang 
our  drive,  and  by  smoke  it  looks  like  they  was  going 
to  succeed,  thanks  to  you  mutton-heads. 

"  'Spose  you  go  over  and  take  'em  apart ;  what  then  ? 
You  have  a  scrap ;  probably  you  lick  'em."  The  men 
growled  ominously,  but  did  not  stir.  "  You  whale 
daylights  out  of  a  lot  of  men  who  probably  don't  know 
any  more  about  this  here  shooting  of  our  dams  than 
a  hog  does  about  a  ruffled  shirt.  Meanwhile  your 
drive  hangs.  Well  ?  Well  ?  Do  you  suppose  the 
men  who  were  back  of  that  shooting,  do  you  suppose 
Morrison  and  Daly  give  a  tinker's  dam  how  many  men 
of  theirs  you  lick?  What  they  want  is  to  hang  our 
drive.  If  they  hang  our  drive,  it's  cheap  at  the  price 
of  a  few  black  eyes." 

The  speaker  paused  and  grinned  good-humoredly  at 
the  men's  attentive  faces.  Then  suddenly  his  own  be- 
came grave,  and  he  swung  into  his  argument  all  the 
impressiveness  of  his  great  bulk. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  how  to  get  even  ?  "  he  asked, 
shading  each  word.  "Do  you  want  to  know  how  to 
make  those  fellows  sing  so  small  you  can't  hear  them  ? 
Well,  I'll  tell  you.  Take  out  this  drive!  Do  it  in  spite 
of  them  !  Show  them  they're  no  good  when  they  buck 
up  against  Thorpe's  One !  Our  boys  died  doing  their 
duty  —  the  way  a  riverman  ought  to.  Now  hump  your- 
selves! Don't  let  'em  die  in  vain !  " 

The  crew  stirred  uneasily,  looking  at  each  other  for 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  353 

approval  of  the  conversion  each  had  experienced. 
Radway,  seizing  the  psychological  moment,  turned 
easily  toward  the  blaze. 

"  Better  turn  in,  boys,  and  get  some  sleep,"  he  said. 
"  We've  got  a  hard  day  to-morrow."  He  stooped  to 
light  his  pipe  at  the  fire.  When  he  had  again  straight- 
ened his  back  after  rather  a  prolonged  interval,  the 
group  had  already  disintegrated.  A  few  minutes  later 
the  cookee  scattered  the  brands  of  the  fire  from  before 
a  sleeping  camp. 

Thorpe  had  listened  non-committally  to  the  collo- 
quy. He  had  maintained  the  suspended  attitude  of  a 
man  who  is  willing  to  allow  the  trial  of  other  methods, 
but  who  does  not  therefore  relinquish  his  own.  At  the 
favorable  termination  of  the  discussion  he  turned  away 
without  comment.  He  expected  to  gain  this  result. 
Had  he  been  in  a  more  judicial  state  of  mind  he  might 
have  perceived  at  last  the  reason,  in  the  complicated 
scheme  of  Providence,  for  his  long  connection  with 
John  Radway. 


Chapter  LI 


EFORE  daylight  Injin  Charley  drifted  into  the 
to  find  Thorpe  already  out.  With  a  curt 
nod  the  Indian  seated  himself  by  the  fire,  and, 
producing  a  square  plug  of  tobacco  and  a  knife,  be- 
gan leisurely  to  fill  his  pipe.  Thorpe  watched  him  in 
silence.  Finally  Injin  Charley  spoke  in  the  red  man's 
clear-cut,  imitative  English,  a  pause  between  each  sen- 
tence. 

"  I  find  trail  three  men,"  said  he,  "  Both  dam,  three 
men.  One  man  go  down  river.  Those  men  have 
cork-boot.  One  man  no  have  cork-boot.  He  boss." 

The  Indian  suddenly  threw  his  chin  out,  his  head 
back,  half  closed  his  eyes  in  a  cynical  squint.  As  by 
a  flash  Dyer,  the  sealer,  leered  insolently  from  behind 
the  Indian's  stolid  mask. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Thorpe. 

For  answer  the  Indian  threw  his  shoulders  forward 
in  Dyer's  nervous  fashion. 

"  He  make  trail  big  by  the  toe,  light  by  the  heel. 
He  make  trail  big  on  inside." 

Charley  arose  and  walked,  after  Dyer's  springy 
fashion,  illustrating  his  point  in  the  soft  wood  ashes 
of  the  immediate  fireside. 

Thorpe  looked  doubtful.  "  I  believe  you  are  right, 
Charley,"  said  he.  "  But  it  is  mighty  little  to  go  on. 
You  can't  be  sure." 

"  I  sure,"  replied  Charley. 

He  puffed  strongly  at  the  heel  of  his  smoke,  then 
arose,  and  without  farewell  disappeared  in  the  forest. 

Thorpe   ranged    the   camp    impatiently,    glancing 

354 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  355 

often  at  the  sky.  At  length  he  laid  fresh  logs  on  the 
fire  and  aroused  the  cook.  It  was  bitter  cold  in  the 
early  morning.  After  a  time  the  men  turned  out  of 
their  own  accord,  at  first  yawning  with  insufficient  rest, 
and  then  becoming  grimly  tense  as  their  returned  wits 
reminded  them  of  the  situation. 

From  that  moment  began  the  wonderful  struggle 
against  circumstances  which  has  become  a  by-word 
among  rivermen  everywhere.  A  forty-day  drive  had 
to  go  out  in  ten.  A  freshet  had  to  float  out  thirty 
million  feet  of  logs.  It  was  tremendous ;  as  even  the 
men  most  deeply  buried  in  the  heavy  hours  of  that  time 
dimly  realized.  It  was  epic ;  as  the  journalist,  by  now 
thoroughly  aroused,  soon  succeeded  in  convincing  his 
editors  and  his  public.  Fourteen,  sixteen,  sometimes 
eighteen  hours  a  day,  the  men  of  the  driving  crew 
worked  like  demons.  Jams  had  no  chance  to  form. 
The  phenomenal  activity  of  the  rear  crew  reduced  by 
half  the  inevitable  sacking.  Of  course,  under  the  press- 
ure, the  lower  dam  had  gone  out.  Nothing  was  to  be 
depended  on  but  sheer  dogged  grit.  Far  up-river  Sad- 
ler &  Smith  had  hung  their  drive  for  the  season.  They 
had  stretched  heavy  booms  across  the  current,  and  so 
had  resigned  themselves  to  a  definite  but  not  extraor- 
dinary loss.  Thorpe  had  at  least  a  clear  river. 

Wallace  Carpenter  could  not  understand  how  hu- 
man flesh  and  blood  endured.  The  men  themselves 
had  long  since  reached  the  point  of  practical  exhaus- 
tion, but  were  carried  through  by  the  fire  of  their 
leader.  Work  was  dogged  until  he  stormed  into 
sight ;  then  it  became  frenzied.  He  seemed  to  impart 
to  those  about  him  a  nervous  force  and  excitability  as 
real  as  that  induced  by  brandy.  When  he  looked  at 
a  man  from  his  cavernous,  burning  eyes,  that  man 
jumped. 

It  was  all  willing  enough  work.  Several  definite 
causes,  each  adequate  alone  to  something  extraordi- 


356  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

nary,  focussed  to  the  necessity.  His  men  worshipped 
Thorpe;  the  idea  of  thwarting  the  purposes  of  their 
comrade's  murderers  retained  its  strength ;  the  innate 
pride  of  caste  and  craft  —  the  sturdiest  virtue  of  the 
riverman  —  was  in  these  picked  men  increased  to  the 
dignity  of  a  passion.  The  great  psychological  forces 
of  a  successful  career  gathered  and  made  head  against 
the  circumstances  which  such  careers  always  arouse  in 
polarity. 

Impossibilities  were  puffed  aside  like  thistles.  The 
men  went  at  them  headlong.  They  gave  way  before 
the  rush.  Thorpe  always  led.  Not  for  a  single  in- 
stant of  the  day  nor  for  many  at  night  was  he  at  rest. 
He  was  like  a  man  who  has  taken  a  deep  breath  to 
reach  a  definite  goal,  and  who  cannot  exhale  until  the 
burst  of  speed  be  over.  Instinctively  he  seemed  to 
realize  that  a  let-down  would  mean  collapse. 

After  the  camp  had  fallen  asleep,  he  would  often  lie 
awake  half  of  the  few  hours  of  their  night,  every  muscle 
tense,  staring  at  the  sky.  His  mind  saw  definitely 
every  detail  of  the  situation  as  he  had  last  viewed  it. 
In  advance  his  imagination  stooped  and  sweated  to  the 
work  which  his  body  was  to  accomplish  the  next  morn- 
ing. Thus  he  did  everything  twice.  Then  at  last  the 
tension  would  relax.  He  would  fall  into  uneasy  sleep. 
But  twice  that  did  not  follow.  Through  the  dissolving 
iron  mist  of  his  striving,  a  sharp  thought  cleaved  like 
an  arrow.  It  was  that  after  all  he  did  not  care.  The 
religion  of  Success  no  longer  held  him  as  its  devout- 
est  worshiper.  He  was  throwing  the  fiber?  of  his  life 
into  the  engine  of  toil,  not  because  of  moral  duty,  but 
because  of  moral  pride.  He  meant  to  succeed  in  order 
to  prove  to  himself  that  he  had  not  been  wrong. 

The  pain  of  the  arrow-wound  always  aroused  him 
from  his  doze  with  a  start.  He  grimly  laughed  the 
thought  out  of  court.  To  his  waking  moments  his  re- 
ligion was  sincere,  was  real.  But  deep  down  in  his 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  357 

sub-consciousness,  below  his  recognition,  the  other 
influence  was  growing  like  a  weed.  Perhaps  the  vis- 
ion, not  the  waking,  had  been  right.  Perhaps  that  far- 
off  beautiful  dream  of  a  girl  which  Thorpe's  idealism 
had  constructed  from  the  reactionary  necessities  of 
Thorpe's  harsh  life  had  been  more  real  than  his  forest 
temples  of  his  ruthless  god!  Perhaps  there  were 
greater  things  than  to  succeed,  greater  things  than 
success.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  Power  that  put  us  here 
demands  more  that  we  cleave  one  to  the  other  in  lov- 
ing-kindness than  that  we  learn  to  blow  the  penny 
whistles  it  has  tossed  us.  And  then  the  keen,  poig- 
nant memory  of  the  dream  girl  stole  into  the  young 
man's  mind,  and  in  agony  was  immediately  thrust 
forth.  He  would  not  think  of  her.  He  had  given  her 
up.  He  had  cast  the  die.  For  success  he  had  bar- 
tered her,  in  the  noblest,  the  loftiest  spirit  of  devotion. 
He  refused  to  believe  that  devotion  fanatical ;  he  re- 
fused to  believe  that  he  had  been  wrong.  In  the  still 
darkness  of  the  night  he  would  rise  and  steal  to  the 
edge  of  the  dully  roaring  stream.  There,  his  eyes 
blinded  and  his  throat  choked  with  a  longing  more 
manly  than  tears,  he  would  reach  out  and  smooth  the 
round  rough  coats  of  the  great  logs. 

"  We'll  do  it !  "  he  whispered  to  them  —  and  to  him- 
self. "  We'll  do  it !  We  can't  be  wrong.  God  would 
not  have  let  us !  " 


Chapter    LII 


rjT^ALLACE  CARPENTER'S  search  expedi- 
t/t/  tion  had  proved  a  failure,  as  Thorpe  had 
r  r  foreseen,  but  at  the  end  of  the  week,  when 
the  water  began  to  recede,  the  little  beagles  ran  upon  a 
mass  of  flesh  and  bones.  The  man  was  unrecogniza- 
ble, either  as  an  individual  or  as  a  human  being.  The 
remains  were  wrapped  in  canvas  and  sent  for  inter- 
ment in  the  cemetery  at  Marquette.  Three  of  the 
others  were  never  found.  The  last  did  not  come  to 
light  until  after  the  drive  had  quite  finished. 

Down  at  the  booms  the  jam  crew  received  the  drive 
as  fast  as  it  came  down.  From  one  crib  to  another 
across  the  broad  extent  of  the  river's  mouth,  heavy 
booms  were  chained  end  to  end  effectually  to  close 
the  exit  to  Lake  Superior.  Against  these  the  logs 
caromed  softly  in  the  slackened  current,  and  stopped. 
The  cribs  were  very  heavy  with  slanting,  instead  of 
square,  tops,  in  order  that  the  pressure  might  be  down- 
wards instead  of  sidewise.  This  guaranteed  their 
permanency.  In  a  short  time  the  surface  of  the  lagoon 
was  covered  by  a  brown  carpet  of  logs  running  in 
strange  patterns  like  windrows  of  fallen  grain.  Final- 
ly, across  the  straight  middle  distance  of  the  river,  ap- 
peared little  agitated  specks  leaping  back  and  forth. 
Thus  the  rear  came  in  sight  and  the  drive  was  all  but 
over. 

Up  till  now  the  weather  had  been  clear  but  oppres- 
sively hot  for  this  time  of  year.  The  heat  had  come 
suddenly  and  maintained  itself  well.  It  had  searched 
out  with  fierce  directness  all  the  patches  of  snow  lying 

358 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  359 

under  the  thick  firs  and  balsams  of  the  swamp  edge, 
it  had  shaken  loose  the  anchor  ice  of  the  marsh  bot- 
toms, and  so  had  materially  aided  the  success  of  the 
drive  by  increase  of  water.  The  men  had  worked  for 
the  most  part  in  undershirts.  They  were  as  much  in 
the  water  as  out  of  it,  for  the  icy  bath  had  become  al- 
most grateful.  Hamilton,  the  journalist,  who  had 
attached  himself  definitely  to  the  drive,  distributed 
bunches  of  papers,  in  which  the  men  read  that  the  un- 
seasonable condition  prevailed  all  over  the  country. 

At  length,  however,  it  gave  signs  of  breaking.  The 
sky,  which  had  been  of  a  steel  blue,  harbored  great 
piled  thunder-heads.  Occasionally  athwart  the  heat 
shot  a  streak  of  cold  air.  Towards  evening  the  thun- 
der-heads shifted  and  finally  dissipated,  to  be  sure,  but 
the  portent  was  there. 

Hamilton's  papers  began  to  tell  of  disturbances  in 
the  South  and  West.  A  washout  in  Arkansas  de- 
railed a  train;  a  cloud-burst  in  Texas  wiped  out  a 
camp ;  the  cities  along  the  Ohio  River  were  enjoying 
their  annual  flood  with  the  usual  concomitants  of 
floating  houses  and  boats  in  the  streets.  The  men 
wished  they  had  some  of  that  water  here. 

So  finally  the  drive  approached  its  end  and  all  con- 
cerned began  in  anticipation  to  taste  the  weariness 
that  awaited  them.  They  had  hurried  their  powers. 
The  few  remaining  tasks  still  confronting  them,  all  at 
once  seemed  more  formidable  than  what  they  had  ac- 
complished. They  could  not  contemplate  further  ex- 
ertion. The  work  for  the  first  time  became  dogged, 
distasteful.  Even  Thorpe  was  infected.  He,  too, 
wanted  more  than  anything  else  to  drop  on  the  bed  in 
Mrs.  Hathaway's  boarding  house,  there  to  sponge 
from  his  mind  all  colors  but  the  dead  gray  of  rest. 
There  remained  but  a  few  things  to  do.  A  mile  of 
sacking  would  carry  the  drive  beyond  the  influence 
of  freshet  water.  After  that  there  would  be  no  hurry. 


THE   BLAZED  TRAIL 

He  looked  around  at  the  hard,  fatigue-worn  facet 
of  the  men  about  him,  and  in  the  obsession  of  his 
wearied  mood  he  suddenly  felt  a  great  rush  of  affection 
for  these  comrades  who  had  so  unreservedly  spent 
themselves  for  his  affair.  Their  features  showed  ex- 
haustion, it  is  true,  but  their  eyes  gleamed  still  with 
the  steady  half-humorous  purpose  of  the  pioneer. 
When  they  caught  his  glance  they  grinned  good- 
humoredly. 

All  at  once  Thorpe  turned  and  started  for  the  bank. 

"  That'll  do,  boys,"  he  said  quietly  to  the  nearest 
group.  "  She's  down !  " 

It  was  noon.  The  sackers  looked  up  in  surprise. 
Behind  them,  to  their  very  feet,  rushed  the  soft  smooth 
slope  of  Hemlock  Rapids.  Below  them  flowed  a 
broad,  peaceful  river.  The  drive  had  passed  its  last 
obstruction.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  it  was  over. 

Calmly,  with  matter-of-fact  directness,  as  though 
they  had  not  achieved  the  impossible ;  as  though  they, 
a  handful,  had  not  cheated  nature  and  powerful  ene- 
mies, they  shouldered  their  peaveys  and  struck  into 
the  broad  wagon  road.  In  the  middle  distance  loomed 
the  tall  stacks  of  the  mill  with  the  little  board  town 
about  it.  Across  the  eye  spun  the  thread  of  the  rail- 
road. Far  away  gleamed  the  broad  expanses  of  Lake 
Superior. 

The  cook  had,  early  that  morning,  moored  the  wan- 
igan  to  the  bank.  One  of  the  teamsters  from  town 
had  loaded  the  men's  "  turkeys  "  on  his  heavy  wagon. 
The  wanigan's  crew  had  thereupon  trudged  into  town. 

The  men  paired  off  naturally  and  fell  into  a  drag- 
ging, dogged  walk.  Thorpe  found  himself  unexpect- 
edly with  Big  Junko.  For  a  time  they  plodded  on 
without  conversation.  Then  the  big  man  ventured  a 
remark. 

"  I'm  glad  she's  over,"  said  he.  "  I  got  a  good  stake 
comin'." 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  361 

**  Yes,"  replied  Thorpe  indifferently. 

**  I  got  most  six  hundred  dollars  comin',"  persisted 
Junko. 

"  Might  as  well  be  six  hundred  cents,"  commented 
Thorpe,  "  it'd  make  you  just  as  drunk." 

Big  Junko  laughed  self-consciously  but  without  the 
slightest  resentment. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  he,  "  but  you  betcher  life  I 
don't  blow  this  stake." 

"  I've  heard  that  talk  before,"  shrugged  Thorpe. 

"  Yes,  but  this  is  different.  I'm  goin'  to  git  married 
on  this.  How's  that?  " 

Thorpe,  his  attention  struck  at  last,  stared  at  his 
companion.  He  noted  the  man's  little  twinkling  ani- 
mal eyes,  his  high  cheek  bones,  his  flat  nose,  his  thick 
and  slobbery  lips,  his  straggling,  fierce  mustache  and 
eyebrows,  his  grotesque  long-tailed  cutaway  coat. 
So  to  him,  too,  this  primitive  man  reaching  dully  from 
primordial  chaos,  the  great  moment  had  yielded  its 
vision. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  She  used  to  wash  at  Camp  Four." 

Thorpe  dimly  remembered  the  woman  now  —  an 
overweighted  creature  with  a  certain  attraction  of  elf- 
ishly  blowing  hair,  with  a  certain  pleasing  full-cheeked, 
full-bosomed  health. 

The  two  walked  on  in  re-established  silence.  Final- 
ly the  giant,  unable  to  contain  himself  longer,  broke 
out  again. 

"  I  do  like  that  woman,"  said  he  with  a  quaintly  de- 
liberate seriousness.  **  That's  the  finest  woman  in  this 
district." 

Thorpe  felt  the  quick  moisture  rush  to  his  eyes. 
There  was  something  inexpressibly  touching  in  those 
dimple  words  as  Big  Junko  uttered  them. 

"  And  when  you  are  married,"  he  asked,  "  what  are 
you  going  to  do?  Ar<*-  you  going  to  stay  on  the 
ffrer?" 


362  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  No,  I'm  goin'  to  clear  a  farm.  The  woman  sbft 
says  that's  the  thing  to  do.  I  like  the  river,  too.  Btrt 
you  bet  when  Carrie  says  a  thing,  that's  plenty  good 
enough  for  Big  Junko." 

"  Suppose,"  suggested  Thorpe,  irresistibly  impelled 
towards  the  attempt,  "  suppose  I  should  offer  you  two 
hundred  dollars  a  month  to  stay  on  the  river.  Would 
you  stay  ?  " 

"  Carrie  don't  like  it,"  replied  Junko. 

"Two  hundred  dollars  is  big  wages/'  persisted 
Thorpe.  "  It's  twice  what  I  give  Radway." 

"  I'd  like  to  ask  Carrie/' 

*  No,  take  it  or  leave  it  now." 

0  Well,  Carrie  says  she  don't  like  it,"  answered  the 
merman  with  a  sigh. 

Thorpe  looked  at  his  companion  fixedly.  Some- 
how the  bestial  countenance  had  taken  on  an  attrac- 
tion of  its  own.  He  remembered  Big  Junko  as  a  wild 
beast  when  his  passions  were  aroused,  as  a  man  whose 
honesty  had  been  doubted. 

"  You've  changed,  Junko,"  said  he. 

"  I  know,"  said  the  big  man.  "  I  been  a  scalawag 
all  right.  I  quit  it.  I  don't  know  much,  but  Carrie 
she's  smart,  and  I'm  goin'  to  do  what  she  says.  When 
you  get  stuck  on  a  good  woman  like  Carrie,  Mr. 
Thorpe,  you  don't  give  much  of  a  damn  for  anything 
else.  Sure !  That's  right  1  It's  the  biggest  thing  top 
o' earth!" 

Here  it  was  again,  the  opposing  creed.  And  from 
such  a  source.  Thorpe's  iron  will  contracted  again. 

"  A  woman  is  no  excuse  for  a  man's  neglecting  his 
work,"  he  snapped. 

"  Shorely  not,"  agreed  Junko  serenely.  "  I  aim  to 
finish  out  my  time  all  right,  Mr.  Thorpe.  Don't  you 
worry  none  about  that.  I  done  my  best  for  you. 
And,"  went  on  the  riverman  in  the  expansion  of  this 
unwonted  confidence  with  his  employer,  "  I'd  like  to 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  363 

rise  to  remark  that  you're  the  best  boss  I  ever  had, 
and  we  boys  wants  to  stay  with  her  till  there's  skating 
:nhell!" 

"  All  right,"  murmured  Thorpe  indifferently. 

His  momentary  interest  had  left  him.  Again  the 
reactionary  weariness  dragged  at  his  feet  Suddenly 
the  remaining  half  mile  to  town  seemed  very  long 
indeed. 


Chapter   LIII 


JMT^ALLAGE  CARPENTER  and  Hamilton, 

l/i/      the    journalist,    seated    against    the    sun- 

r  r           warmed  bench  of  Mrs.  Hathaway's  board- 

oig-house,  commented  on  the  band  as  it  stumbled  in 

to  the  wash-room. 

"  Those  men  don't  know  how  big  they  are,"  re- 
marked the  journalist.  "  That's  the  way  with  most 
big  men.  And  that  man  Thorpe  belongs  to  another 
age.  I'd  like  to  get  him  to  telling  his  experiences; 
he'd  be  a  gold  mine  to  me." 

"  And  would  require  about  as  much  trouble  to 
'work,'  "  laughed  Wallace.  "  He  won't  talk." 

"  That's  generally  the  trouble,  confound  'em," 
sighed  Hamilton.  "  The  fellows  who  can  talk  haven't 
anything  to  say ;  and  those  who  have  something  to  tell 
are  dumb  as  oysters.  I've  got  him  in  though."  He 
spread  one  of  a  roll  of  papers  on  his  knees.  "  I  got 
a  set  of  duplicates  for  you.  Thought  you  might  like 
to  keep  them.  The  office  tells  me,"  he  concluded  mod- 
estly, "  that  they  are  attracting  lots  of  attention,  but 
are  looked  upon  as  being  a  rather  clever  sort  of  fic- 
tion/" 

Wallace  picked  up  the  sheet.  His  eye  was  at  once 
met  by  the  heading,  " '  So  long,  boys,' "  in  letters  a 
half  inch  in  height,  and  immediately  underneath  in 
smaller  type,  "  said  Jimmy  Powers,  and  threw  his  hat 
in  the  face  of  death." 

"  It's  all  there,"  explained  the  journalist, "  —  the 
jam  and  the  break,  and  all  this  magnificent  struggle 
afterwards.  It  makes  a  great  yarn.  I  feel  tempted 

364 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  365 

sometimes  to  help  it  out  a  little  —  artistically,  you 
know  —  but  of  course  that  wouldn't  do.  She'd  make 
a  ripping  yarn,  though,  if  I  could  get  up  some  motive 
outside  mere  trade  rivalry  for  the  blowing  up  of  those 
dams.  That  would  just  round  it  off." 

Wallace  Carpenter  was  about  to  reply  that  such  a 
motive  actually  existed,  when  the  conversation  was 
interrupted  by  the  approach  of  Thorpe  and  Big  Junko. 
The  former  looked  twenty  years  older  after  his  winter. 
His  eye  was  dull,  his  shoulders  drooped,  his  gait  was 
inelastic.  The  whole  bearing  of  the  man  was  that  of 
one  weary  to  the  bone. 

"  I've  got  something  here  to  show  you,  Harry," 
cried  Wallace  Carpenter,  waving  one  of  the  papers. 
"  It  was  a  great  drive  and  here's  something  to  remem- 
ber it  by." 

"All  right,  Wallace,  by  and  by,"  replied  Thorpe 
dully.  "  I'm  dead.  I'm  going  to  turn  in  for  a  while. 
I  need  sleep  more  than  anything  else.  I  can't  think 
now." 

He  passed  through  the  little  passage  into  the  "  par- 
lor bed-room,"  which  Mrs.  Hathaway  always  kept 
in  readiness  for  members  of  the  firm.  There  he  fell 
heavily  asleep  almost  before  his  body  had  met  the 
bed. 

In  the  long  dining  room  the  rivermen  consumed  a 
belated  dinner.  They  had  no  comments  to  make.  It 
was  over. 

The  two  on  the  veranda  smoked.  To  the  right,  at 
the  end  of  the  sawdust  street,  the  mill  sang  its  varying 
and  lulling  keys.  The  odor  of  fresh-sawed  pine  per- 
fumed the  air.  Not  a  hundred  yards  away  the  rivei 
slipped  silently  to  the  distant  blue  Superior,  escaping 
between  the  slanting  stone-filled  cribs  which  held  back 
the  logs.  Down  the  south  and  west  the  huge  thunder- 
heads  gathered  and  flashed  and  grumbled,  as  they  bad 
done  every  afternoon  for  days  previous. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

*' Queer  thing,"  commented  Hamilton  finally,  "these 
cold  streaks  in  the  air.  They  are  just  as  distinct  as 
though  they  had  partitions  around  them." 

"  Queer  climate  anyway,"  agreed  Carpenter. 

Excepting  always  for  the  mill,  the  little  settlement 
appeared  asleep.  The  main  booms  were  quite  desert- 
ed. Not  a  single  figure,  armed  with  its  picturesque 
pike-pole,  loomed  athwart  the  distance.  After  awhile 
Hamilton  noticed  something. 

"  Look  here,  Carpenter,"  said  he,  "  what's  happen- 
ing out  there  ?  Have  some  of  your  confounded  logs 
junk,  or  what  ?  There  don't  seem  to  be  near  so  many 
of  them  somehow." 

"  No,  it  isn't  that,"  proffered  Carpenter  after  a  mo- 
ment's scrutiny,  "  there  are  just  as  many  logs,  but  they 
are  getting  separated  a 'little  so  you  can  see  the  open 
•water  between  them." 

"  Guess  you're  right.  Say,  look  here,  I  believe  that 
the  river  is  rising !  " 

"  Nonsense,  we  haven't  had  any  rain." 

"  She's  rising  just  the  same.  I'll  tell  you  how  I 
know;  you  see  that  spile  over  there  near  the  left- 
iiand  crib?  Well,  I  sat  on  the  boom  this  morning 
•watching  the  crew,  and  I  whittled  the  spile  with  my 
Icnife  —  you  can  see  the  marks  from  here.  I  cut  the 
thing  about  two  feet  above  the  water.  Look  at  it 
now."  / 

"  She's  pretty  near  the  water  line,  that's  right,"  ad- 
mitted Carpenter. 

"  I  should  think  that  might  make  the  boys  hot," 
commented  Hamilton.  "  If  they'd  known  this  was 
coming,  they  needn't  have  hustled  so  to  get  the  drive 
down." 

"  That's  so,"  Wallace  agreed. 

About  an  hour  later  the  younger  man  in  his  turn 
made  a  discovery. 

"  She's   been   rising   right   along,"   he    submitted. 


**  Your  marks  are  nearer  the  water,  and,  do  you  know, 
[  believe  the  logs  are  beginning  to  feel  it.  See,  they've 
closed  up  the  little  openings  between  them,  and  they 
are  beginning  to  crowd  down  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
pond." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  this  business,"  haz- 
arded the  journalist,  "  but  by  the  mere  look  of  the 
thing  I  should  think  there  was  a  good  deal  of  pressure 
on  that  same  lower  end.  By  Jove,  look  there!  See 
those  logs  up-end  ?  I  believe  you're  going  to  have  a 
jam  right  here  in  your  own  booms !  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  hesitated  Wallace,  "  I  never  heard 
of  its  happening." 

"  You'd  better  let  someone  know." 

"  I  hate  to  bother  Harry  or  any  of  the  rivermen. 
I'll  just  step  down  to  the  mill.  Mason  —  he's  our  mill 
foreman  —  he'll  know." 

Mason  came  to  the  edge  of  the  high  trestle  and  took 
one  look. 

"  Jumping  fish-hooks!  "  he  cried.  "  Why,  the  river's 
up  six  inches  and  still  a  comin' !  Here  you,  Tom !  " 
he  called  to  one  of  the  yard  hands,  "  you  tell  Solly  to 
get  steam  on  that  tug  double  quick,  and  have  Dave 
hustle  together  his  driver  crew." 

"  What  you  going  to  do?  "  asked  Wallace. 

"  I  got  to  strengthen  the  booms,"  explained  the  mill 
foreman.  "  We'll  drive  some  piles  across  between  the 
cribs." 

"  Is  there  any  danger  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  the  river  would  have  to  rise  a  good  deal 
higher  than  she  is  now  to  make  current  enough  to 
hurt.  They've  had  a  hard  rain  up  above.  This  will 
go  down  in  a  few  hours." 

After  a  time  the  tug  puffed  up  to  the  booms,  escort- 
ing the  pile  driver.  The  latter  towed  a  little  raft  of 
long  sharpened  piles,  which  it  at  once  began  to  drive 
in  such  positions  as  would  most  effectually  strengthen 


368 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 


the  booms.  In  the  meantime  the  thunder-heads  had 
slyly  climbed  the  heavens,  so  that  a  sudden  deluge  of 
rain  surprised  the  workmen.  For  an  hour  it  poured 
down  in  torrents ;  then  settled  to  a  steady  gray  beat. 
Immediately  the  aspect  had  changed.  The  distant  rise 
of  land  was  veiled ;  the  brown  expanse  of  logs  became 
slippery  and  glistening;  the  river  below  the  booms 
was  picked  into  staccato  points  by  the  drops ;  distant 
Superior  turned  lead  color  and  seemed  to  tumble 
strangely  athwart  the  horizon. 

Solly,  the  tug  captain,  looked  at  his  mooring  hawsers 
and  then  at  the  nearest  crib. 

"  She's  riz  two  inches  in  th'  las'  two  hours,"  he  an- 
nounced, "  and  she's  runnin'  like  a  mill  race."  Solly 
was  a  typical  north-country  tug  captain,  short  and 
broad,  with  a  brown,  clear  face,  and  the  steadiest  and 
calmest  of  steel-blue  eyes.  "  When  she  begins  to  feel 
th'  pressure  behind,"  he  went  on,  "  there's  goin'  to  be 
trouble." 

Towards  dusk  she  began  to  feel  that  pressure. 
Through  the  rainy  twilight  the  logs  could  be  seen  rais- 
ing their  ghostly  arms  of  protest.  Slowly,  without 
tumult,  the  jam  formed.  In  the  van  the  logs  crossed 
silently ;  in  the  rear  they  pressed  in,  were  sucked  under 
in  the  swift  water,  and  came  to  rest  at  the  bottom  of 
the  river.  The  current  of  the  river  began  to  protest, 
pressing  its  hydraulics  through  the  narrowing  crevices. 
The  situation  demanded  attention. 

A  breeze  began  to  pull  off  shore  in  the  body  of  rain. 
Little  by  little  it  increased,  sending  the  water  by  in 
gusts,  ruffling  the  already  hurrying  river  into  greater 
haste,  raising  far  from  the  shore  dimly  perceived 
white-caps.  Between  the  roaring  of  the  wind,  the  dash 
of  rain,  and  the  rush  of  the  stream,  men  had  to  shout  to 
make  themselves  heard. 

"  Guess  you'd  better  rout  out  the  boss,"  screamed 
Solly  to  Wallace  Carpenter ;  "  this  damn  water's  com- 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  369 

in'  up  an  hich  an  hour  right  along.  When  she  backs 
up  once,  she'll  push  this  jam  out  sure." 

Wallace  ran  to  the  boarding  house  and  roused  his 
partner  from  a  heavy  sleep.  The  latter  understood  the 
situation  at  a  word.  While  dressing,  he  explained  to 
the  younger  man  wherein  lay  the  danger. 

"  If  the  jam  breaks  once,"  said  he,  "  nothing  top  of 
earth  can  prevent  it  from  going  out  into  the  Lake,  and 
there  it'll  scatter,  Heaven  knows  where.  Once  scat- 
tered, it  is  practically  a  total  loss.  The  salvage 
wouldn't  pay  the  price  of  the  lumber." 

They  felt  blindly  through  the  rain  in  the  direction 
of  the  lights  on  the  tug  and  pile-driver.  Shearer,  the 
water  dripping  from  his  flaxen  mustache,  joined  them 
like  a  shadow. 

"  I  heard  you  come  in,"  he  explained  to  Carpenter. 
At  the  river  he  announced  his  opinion.  "  We  can  hold 
her  all  right,"  he  assured  them.  "  It'll  take  a  few  more 
piles,  but  by  morning  the  storm'll  be  over,  and  she'll 
begin  to  go  down  again." 

The  three  picked  their  way  over  the  creaking,  sway- 
ing timber.  But  when  they  reached  the  pile-driver, 
they  found  trouble  afoot.  The  crew  had  mutinied,  and 
refused  longer  to  drive  piles  under  the  face  of  the  jam. 

"  If  she  breaks  loose,  she's  going  to  bury  us,"  said 
they. 

"  She  won't  break,"  snapped  Shearer,  "get  to  work.'' 

"  It's  dangerous,"  they  objected  sullenly. 

"  By  God,  you  get  off  this  driver,"  shouted  Solly. 
"  Go  over  and  lie  down  in  a  ten-acre  lot,  and  see  if  you 
feel  safe  there !  " 

He  drove  them  ashore  with  a  storm  of  profanity  and 
a  multitude  of  kicks,  his  steel-blue  eyes  blazing. 

"  There's  nothing  for  it  but  to  get  the  boys  out 
again,"  said  Tim ;  "  I  kinder  hate  to  do  it." 

But  when  the  Fighting  Forty,  half  asleep  but  daunt- 
less, took  charge  of  the  driver,  a  catastrophe  made  it- 


370  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

self  known.  One  of  the  ejected  men  had  tripped  the 
lifting  chain  of  the  hammer  after  another  had  knocked 
away  the  heavy  preventing  block,  and  so  the  hammer 
had  fallen  into  the  river  and  was  lost.  None  other 
was  to  be  had.  The  pile  driver  was  useless. 

A  dozen  men  were  at  once  despatched  for  cables, 
chains,  and  wire  ropes  from  the  supply  at  the  ware- 
house. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  those  whelps  here,"  cried  Shearer, 
"  I'd  throw  them  under  the  jam." 

"  It's  part  of  the  same  trick,"  said  Thorpe  grimly ; 
"  those  fellows  have  their  men  everywhere  among  us. 
I  don't  know  whom  to  trust." 

"  You  think  it's  Morrison  &  Daly  ?  "  queried  Car- 
penter astonished. 

"  Think  ?  I  know  it.  They  know  as  well  as  you  or 
I  that  if  we  save  these  logs,  we'll  win  out  in  the  stock 
exchange ;  and  they're  not  such  fools  as  to  let  us  save 
them  if  it  can  be  helped.  I  have  a  score  to  settle  with 
those  fellows ;  and  when  I  get  through  with  this  thing 
I'll  settle  it  all  right." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?  " 

"  The  only  thing  there  is  to  be  done.  We'll  string 
heavy  booms,  chained  together,  between  the  cribs,  and 
then  trust  to  heaven  they'll  hold.  I  think  we  can  hold 
the  jam.  The  water  will  begin  to  flow  over  the  bank 
before  long,  so  there  won't  be  much  increase  of  press- 
ure over  what  we  have  now;  and  as  there  won't  be 
any  shock  to  withstand,  I  think  our  heavy  booms  will 
do  the  business." 

He  turned  to  direct  the  boring  of  some  long  boom 
logs  in  preparation  for  the  chains.  Suddenly  he 
whirled  again  to  Wallace  with  so  strange  an  expres- 
sion in  his  face  that  the  young  man  almost  cried  out 
The  uncertain  light  of  the  lanterns  showed  dimly  the 
streaks  of  rain  across  his  countenance,  and  his  eye 
flared  with  a  look  almost  of  panic. 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  371 

"  I  never  thought  of  it !  *  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Fool  that  I  am !  I  don't  see  how  I  missed  it.  Wal- 
lace, don't  you  see  what  those  devils  will  do  next  ?  " 

"No,  what  do  you  mean?"  gasped  the  younger 
man. 

"  There  are  twelve  million  feet  of  logs  up  river  in 
Sadler  &  Smith's  drive.  Don't  you  see  what  they'll 
do?" 

"  No,  I  don't  believe " 

"  Just  as  soon  as  they  find  out  that  the  river  is  boom- 
ing, and  that  we  are  going  to  have  a  hard  time  to  hold 
our  jam,  they'll  let  loose  those  twelve  million  on  us. 
They'll  break  the  jam,  or  dynamite  it,  or  something. 
And  let  me  tell  you,  that  a  very  few  logs  hitting  the 
tail  of  our  jam  will  start  the  whole  shooting  match  so 
that  no  power  on  earth  can  stop  it." 

"  I  don't  imagine  they'd  think  of  doing  that " 

began  Wallace  by  way  of  assurance. 

"Think  of  it!  You  don't  know  them.  They've 
thought  of  everything.  You  don't  know  that  man 
Daly.  Ask  Tim,  he'll  tell  you." 

"  Well,  the " 

"  I've  got  to  send  a  man  up  there  right  away.  Per- 
haps we  can  get  there  in  time  to  head  them  off.  They 
have  to  send  their  man  over —  By  the  way,"  he 
queried,  struck  with  a  new  idea,  "  how  long  have  you 
been  driving  piles  ?  " 

"  Since  about  three  o'clock." 

"  Six  hours,"  computed  Thorpe.  M  I  wish  you'd 
come  for  me  sooner." 

He  cast  his  eye  rapidly  over  the  men. 

"  I  don't  know  just  who  to  send.  There  isn't  a  good 
enough  woodsman  in  the  lot  to  make  Siscoe  Falls 
through  the  woods  a  night  like  this.  The  river  trail 
is  too  long;  and  a  cut  through  the  woods  is  blind. 
Andrews  is  the  only  man  I  know  of  who  could  do  it, 
but  I  think  Billy  Mason  said  Andrews  had  gone  up  on 


372  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

the  Gunther  track  to  run  lines.  Come  on;  we'll 
see." 

With  infinite  difficulty  and  caution,  they  reached  the 
shore.  Across  the  gleaming  logs  shone  dimly  the  lan- 
terns at  the  scene  of  work,  ghostly  through  the  rain. 
Beyond,  on  either  side,  lay  impenetrable  drenched 
darkness,  racked  by  the  wind. 

"  /  wouldn't  want  to  tackle  it,"  panted  Thorpe.  "  If 
it  wasn't  for  that  cursed  tote  road  between  Sadler's 
and  Daly's,  I  wouldn't  worry.  It's  just  too  easy  for 
them." 

Behind  them  the  jam  cracked  and  shrieked  and 
groaned.  Occasionally  was  heard,  beneath  the  sharper 
noises,  a  dull  boom,  as  one  of  the  heavy  timbers  forced 
by  the  pressure  from  its  resting  place,  shot  into  the  air, 
and  fell  back  on  the  bristling  surface. 

Andrews  had  left  that  morning. 

"  Tim  Shearer  might  do  it,"  suggested  Thorpe,  "  but 
I  hate  to  spare  him." 

He  picked  his  rifle  from  its  rack  and  thrust  the  mag- 
azine full  of  cartridges. 

"  Come  on,  Wallace,"  said  he,  "  we'll  hunt  him  up." 

They  stepped  again  into  the  shriek  and  roar  of  the 
storm,  bending  their  heads  to  its  power,  but  indiffer- 
ent in  the  already  drenched  condition  of  their  clothing, 
to  the  rain.  The  saw-dust  street  was  saturated  like  a 
sponge.  They  could  feel  the  quick  water  rise  abouV 
the  pressure  at  their  feet.  From  the  invisible  houses 
,lley  heard  a  steady  monotone  of  flowing  from  the 
roofs.  Far  ahead,  dim  in  the  mist,  sprayed  the  light 
of  lanterns. 

Suddenly  Thorpe  felt  a  touch  on  his  arm.  Faintly 
he  perceived  at  his  elbow  the  high  lights  of  a  face  from 
which  the  water  streamed. 

"  Injin  Charley !  "  he  cried,  "  the  very  man !  " 


Chapter  LIV 


JT^APIDLY  Thorpe  explained  what  was  to  be 
redone,  and  thrust  his  rifle  into  the  Indian's  hands. 
JL  \.  The  latter  listened  in  silence  and  stolidity,  then 
turned,  and  without  a  word  departed  swiftly  in  the 
darkness.  The  two  white  men  stood  a  minute  atten- 
tive. Nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the  steady  beat  of 
rain  and  the  roaring  of  the  wind. 

Near  the  bank  of  the  river  they  encountered  a  man, 
visible  only  as  an  uncertain  black  outline  against  the 
glow  of  the  lanterns  beyond.  Thorpe,  stopping  him, 
found  Big  Junko. 

"  This  is  no  time  to  quit,"  said  Thorpe,  sharply. 

"  I  'aint  quitting"  replied  Big  Junko. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  then  ?  " 

Junko  was  partially  and  stammeringly  unrespon- 
sive. 

"  Looks  bad,"  commented  Thorpe.  "  You'd  better 
get  back  to  your  job." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Junko  helplessly.  In  the  momentary 
slack  tide  of  work,  the  giant  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
searching  out  the  driver  crew  for  purposes  of  pugilis- 
tic vengeance.  Thorpe's  suspicions  stung  him,  but 
his  simple  mind  could  see  no  direct  way  to  explanation. 

All  night  long  in  the  chill  of  a  spring  rain  and  wind- 
storm the  Fighting  Forty  and  certain  of  the  mill  crew 
gave  themselves  to  the  labor  of  connecting  the  slant- 
ing stone  cribs  so  strongly,  by  means  of  heavy  timbers 
chained  end  to  end,  that  the  pressure  of  a  break  in  the 
jam  might  not  sweep  aside  the  defenses.  Wallace 
Carpenter,  Shorty,  the  chore-boy,  and  Anderson,  the 

373 


374  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

barn-boss,  picked  a  dangerous  passage  back  and  forth 
carrying  pails  of  red-hot  coffee  which  Mrs.  Hathaway 
constantly  prepared.  The  cold  water  numbed  the 
men's  hands.  With  difficulty  could  they  manipulate 
the  heavy  chains  through  the  auger  holes;  with  pain 
they  twisted  knots,  bored  holes.  They  did  not  com- 
plain. Behind  them  the  jam  quivered,  perilously  near 
the  bursting  point.  From  it  shrieked  aloud  the  demons 
of  pressure.  Steadily  the  river  rose,  an  inch  an  hour. 
The  key  might  snap  at  any  given  moment,  —  they 
could  not  tell,  —  and  with  the  rush  they  knew  very 
well  that  themselves,  the  tug,  and  the  disabled  pile- 
driver  would  be  swept  from  existence.  The  worst  of 
it  was  that  the  blackness  shrouded  their  experience 
into  uselessness;  they  were  utterly  unable  to  tell  by 
the  ordinary  visual  symptoms  how  near  the  jam  might 
be  to  collapse. 

However,  they  persisted,  as  the  old-time  riverman 
always  does,  so  that  when  dawn  appeared  the  barrier 
was  continuous  and  assured.  Although  the  pressure 
of  the  river  had  already  forced  the  logs  against  the  de* 
fenses,  the  latter  held  the  strain  well. 

The  storm  had  settled  into  its  gait.  Overhead  the 
sky  was  filled  with  gray,  beneath  which  darker  scuds 
flew  across  the  zenith  before  a  howling  southwest 
wind.  Out  in  the  clear  river  one  could  hardly  stand 
upright  against  the  gusts.  In  the  fan  of  many  direc- 
tions furious  squalls  swept  over  the  open  water  below 
the  booms  and  an  eager  boiling  current  rushed  to  the 
lake. 

Thorpe  now  ga,ve  orders  that  the  tug  and  driver 
should  take  shelter.  A  few  moments  later  he  ex- 
pressed himself  as  satisfied.  The  dripping  crew,  their 
harsh  faces  gray  in  the  half-light,  picked  their  way  to 
the  shore. 

In  the  darkness  of  that  long  night's  work  no  man 
knew  his  neighbor.  Men  from  the  river,  men  from  the 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  375 

mill,  men  from  the  yard  all  worked  side  by  side.  Thus 
no  one  noticed  especially  a  tall,  slender,  but  well-knit 
individual  dressed  in  a  faded  mackinaw  and  a  limp 
slouch  hat  which  he  wore  pulled  over  his  eyes.  This 
young  fellow  occupied  himself  with  the  chains.' 
Against  the  racing  current  the  crew  held  the  ends  of 
the  heavy  booms,  while  he  fastened  them  together. 
He  worked  well,  but  seemed  slow.  Three  times 
Shearer  hustled  him  on  after  the  others  had  finished, 
examining  closely  the  work  that  had  been  done.  On 
the  third  occasion  he  shrugged  his  shoulder  somewhat 
impatiently. 

The  men  straggled  to  shore,  the  young  fellow  just 
described  bringing  up  the  rear.  He  walked  as  though 
tired  out,  hanging  his  head  and  dragging  his  feet. 
When,  however,  the  boarding-house  door  had  closed 
on  the  last  of  those  who  preceded  him,  and  the  town 
lay  deserted  in  the  dawn,  he  suddenly  became  trans- 
formed. Casting  a  keen  glance  right  and  left  to  be 
sure  of  his  opportunity,  he  turned  and  hurried  reck- 
lessly back  over  the  logs  to  the  center  booms.  There 
he  knelt  and  busied  himself  with  the  chains. 

In  his  zigzag  progression  over  the  jam  he  so  blended 
with  the  morning  shadows  as  to  seem  one  of  them,  and 
he  would  have  escaped  quite  unnoticed  had  not  a  sud- 
den shifting  of  the  logs  under  his  feet  compelled  him 
to  rise  for  a  moment  to  his  full  height.  So  Wallace 
Carpenter,  passing  from  his  bedroom,  along  the  porch, 
to  the  dining  room,  became  aware  of  the  man  on  the 
logs. 

His  first  thought  was  that  something  demanding 
instant  attention  had  happened  to  the  boom.  He 
therefore  ran  at  once  to  the  man's  assistance,  ready  to 
help  him  personally  or  to  call  other  aid  as  the  exig- 
ency demanded.  Owing  to  the  precarious  nature  of 
the  passage,  he  could  not  see  beyond  his  feet  until  very 
close  to  the  workman.  Then  he  looked  up  to  find  the 


376  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

man,  squatted  on  the  boom,  contemplating  him  sax 
donically. 

"  Dyer !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Right,  my  son,"  said  the  other  coolly. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  " 

"If  you  want  to  know,  I  am  filing  this  chain.** 

Wallace  made  one  step  forward  and  so  became  aware 
that  at  last  firearms  were  taking  a  part  in  this  desper- 
ate game. 

"  You  stand  still,"  commanded  Dyer  from  behind 
the  revolver.  "  It's  unfortunate  for  you  that  you  hap- 
pened along,  because  now  you'll  have  to  come  with 
me  till  this  little  row  is  over.  You  won't  have  to  stay 
long;  your  logs'll  go  out  in  an  hour.  I'll  just  trouble 
you  to  go  into  the  brush  with  me  for  a  while." 

The  sealer  picked  his  file  from  beside  the  weakened 
Hnk. 

"What  have  you  against  us,  anyway,  Dyer?'" 
asked  Wallace.  His  quick  mind  had  conceived  a  plan. 
At  the  moment,  he  was  standing  near  the  outermost 
edge  of  the  jam,  but  now  as  he  spoke  he  stepped  quiet- 
ly to  the  boom  log. 

Dyer's  black  eyes  gleamed  at  him  suspiciously,  but 
the  movement  appeared  wholly  natural  in  view  of  the 
return  to  shore. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied.  "  I  didn't  like  your  gang 
particularly,  but  that's  nothing." 

"  Why  do  you  take  such  nervy  chances  to  injure 
us  ?  "  queried  Carpenter. 

"  Because  there's  something  in  it,"  snapped  the 
sealer.  "  Now  about  face ;  mosey !  " 

Like  a  flash  Wallace  wheeled  and  dropped  into  the 
river,  swimming  as  fast  as  possible  below  water  before 
his  breath  should  give  out.  The  swift  current  hurried 
him  away.  When  at  last  he  rose  for  air,  the  spit  oi 
Dyer's  pistol  caused  him  no  uneasiness.  A  moment 
later  he  struck  out  boldly  for  shore. 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  377 

What  Dyer's  ultimate  plan  might  be,  he  could  not 
guess.  He  had  stated  confidently  that  the  jam  would 
break  "  in  an  hour."  He  might  intend  to  start  it  with 
dynamite.  Wallace  dragged  himself  from  the  water 
and  commenced  breathlessly  to  run  toward  the  board- 
ing-house. 

Dyer  had  already  reached  the  shore.  Wallace 
raised  what  was  left  of  his  voice  in  a  despairing  shout. 
The  sealer  mockingly  waved  his  hat,  then  turned  and 
ran  swiftly  and  easily  toward  the  shelter  of  the  woods. 
At  their  border  he  paused  again  to  bow  in  derision. 
Carpenter's  cry  brought  men  to  the  boarding-house 
door.  From  the  shadows  of  the  forest  two  vivid 
flashes  cut  the  dusk.  Dyer  staggered,  turned  com- 
pletely about,  seemed  partially  to  recover,  and  disap- 
peared. An  instant  later,  across  the  open  space  where 
the  sealer  had  stood,  with  rifle  a-trail,  the  Indian  leaped 
in  pursuit. 


Chapter   LV 


'JTJTT'HAT  is  it?"  "What's  the  matter? * 
l/J/  "What  the  hell's  up?"  "What's  hap- 
r  r  pened?  "  burst  on  Wallace  in  a  volley. 

"  It's  Dyer,"  gasped  the  young  man.  "  I  found  him 
on  the  boom !  He  held  me  up  with  a  gun  while  he 
filed  the  boom  chains  between  the  center  piers. 
They're  just  ready  to  go.  I  got  away  by  diving. 
Hurry  and  put  in  a  new  chain;  you  haven't  much 
time!" 

"  He's  a  gone-er  now,"  interjected  Solly  grimly.  — 
"  Charley  is  on  his  trail  —  and  he  is  hit." 

Thorpe's  intelligence  leaped  promptly  to  the  practi- 
cal question. 

"  Injin  Charley,  where'd  he  come  from  ?  I  sent  him 
op  Sadler  &  Smith's.  It's  twenty  miles,  even  through 
the  woods." 

As  though  by  way  of  colossal  answer  the  whole 
surface  of  the  jam  moved  inward  and  upward,  thrust- 
ing the  logs  bristling  against  the  horizon. 

"  She's  going  to  break ! "  shouted  Thorpe,  starting 
on  a  run  towards  the  river.  "  A  chain,  quick  1 " 

The  men  followed,  strung  high  with  excitement 
Hamilton,  the  journalist,  paused  long  enough  to 
glance  up-stream.  Then  he,  too,  ran  after  them, 
screaming  that  the  river  above  was  full  of  logs.  By 
that  they  all  knew  that  Injin  Charley's  mission  had 
failed,  and  that  something  under  ten  million  feet  of  logs 
were  racing  down  the  river  like  so  many  battering 
rams. 

At  the  boom  the  great  jam  was  already  a-tremble 
S78 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  379 

with  eagerness  to  spring.  Indeed  a  miracle  alone 
seemed  to  hold  the  timbers  in  their  place. 

"  It's  death,  certain  death,  to  go  out  on  that  boom," 
muttered  Billy  Mason. 

Tim  Shearer  stepped  forward  coolly,  ready  as  al- 
ways to  assume  the  perilous  duty.  He  was  thrust 
back  by  Thorpe,  who  seized  the  chain,  cold-shut  and 
hammer  which  Scotty  Parsons  brought,  and  ran  light- 
ly out  over  the  booms,  shouting, 

"  Back !  back !  Don't  follow  me,  on  your  lives  t 
Keep  'em  back,  Tim !  " 

The  swift  water  boiled  from  under  the  booms. 
Bang!  smash!  bang!  crashed  the  logs,  a  mile  up- 
stream, but  plainly  audible  above  the  waters  and  the 
wind.  Thorpe  knelt,  dropped  the  cold-shut  through 
on  either  side  of  the  weakened  link,  and  prepared  to 
close  it  with  his  hammer.  He  intended  further  to 
strengthen  the  connection  with  the  other  chain. 

"  Lem'  me  hold  her  for  you.  You  can't  close  her 
alone,"  said  an  unexpected  voice  next  his  elbow. 

Thorpe  looked  up  in  surprise  and  anger.  Over  him 
leaned  Big  Junko.  The  men  had  been  unable  to  pre- 
vent his  following.  Animated  by  the  blind  devotion 
of  the  animal  for  its  master,  and  further  stung  to 
action  by  that  master's  doubt  of  his  fidelity,  the  giant 
had  followed  to  assist  as  he  might. 

''  You  damned  fool,"  cried  Thorpe  exasperated,  then 
held  the  hammer  to  him,  "  strike  while  I  keep  the  chain 
underneath,"  he  commanded. 

Big  Junko  leaned  forward  to  obey,  kicking  strongly 
his  caulks  into  the  barked  surface  of  the  boom  log. 
The  spikes,  worn  blunt  by  the  river  work  already  ac- 
complished, failed  to  grip.  Big  Junko  slipped,  caught 
himself  by  an  effort,  overbalanced  in  the  other  direc- 
tion, and  fell  into  the  stream.  The  current  at  once 
swept  him  away,  but  fortunately  in  such  a  direction 
that  he  was  enabled  to  catch  the  slanting  end  of  a 


380  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  dead  head  "  log  whose  lower  end  was  jammed  in  the 
crib.  The  dead  head  was  slippery,  the  current  strong; 
Big  Junko  had  no  crevice  by  which  to  assure  his  hold. 
In  another  moment  he  would  be  torn  away. 

"  Let  go  and  swim !  "  shouted  Thorpe. 

"  I  can't  swim,"  replied  Junko  in  so  low  a  Toice  as 
to  be  scarcely  audible. 

For  a  moment  Thorpe  staretJ  at  him. 

"  Tell  Carrie,"  said  Big  Junko. 

Then  there  beneath  the  swirling  gray  sky,  under  the 
frowning  jam,  in  the  midst  of  flood  waters,  Thorpe  had 
his  second  great  Moment  of  Decision.  He  did  not 
pause  to  weigh  reasons  or  chances,  to  discuss  with 
himself  expediency,  or  the  moralities  of  failure.  His 
actions  were  foreordained,  mechanical.  All  at  once 
the  great  forces  which  the  winter  had  been  bringing  to 
power,  crystallized  into  something  bigger  than  him- 
self or  his  ideas.  The  trail  lay  before  him ;  there  was 
no  choice. 

Now  clearly,  with  no  shadow  of  doubt,  he  took  the 
other  view :  There  could  be  nothing  better  than  Love. 
Men,  their  works,  their  deeds  were  little  things.  Suc- 
cess was  a  little  thing ;  the  opinion  of  men  a  little  thing. 
Instantly  he  felt  the  truth  of  it. 

And  here  was  Love  in  danger.  That  it  held  its 
moment's  habitation  in  clay  of  the  coarser  mould  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  great  elemental  truth  of  it.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  Thorpe  felt  the  full  crushing 
power  of  an  abstraction.  Without  thought,  instinct- 
ively, he  threw  before  the  necessity  of  the  moment  all 
that  was  lesser.  It  was  the  triumph  of  what  was  real 
m  the  man  over  that  which  environment,  alienation, 
difficulties  had  raised  up  within  him. 

At  Big  Junko's  words,  Thorpe  raised  his  hammer 
and  with  one  mighty  blow  severed  the  chains  which 
bound  the  ends  of  the  booms  across  the  opening.  The 
free  end  of  one  of  the  poles  immediately  swung  down 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  381 

with  the  current  in  the  direction  of  Big  Junko.  Thorpe 
ike  a  cat  ran  to  the  end  of  the  boom,  seized  the  giant 
by  the  collar,  and  dragged  him  through  the  water  to 
safety. 

"  Run ! "  he  shouted.    "  Run  for  your  life !  " 

The  two  started  desperately  back,  skirting  the  edge 
of  the  logs  which  now  the  very  seconds  alone  seemed 
to  hold  back.  They  were  drenched  and  blinded  with 
spray,  deafened  with  the  crash  of  timbers  settling  to 
the  leap.  The  men  on  shore  could  no  longer  see  them 
for  the  smother.  The  great  crush  of  logs  had  actually 
begun  its  first  majestic  sliding  motion  when  at  last 
they  emerged  to  safety. 

At  first  a  few  of  the  loose  timbers  found  the  opening, 
slipping  quietly  through  with  the  current ;  then  more ; 
finally  the  front  of  the  jam  dove  forward ;  and  an  in- 
stant later  the  smooth,  swift  motion  had  gained  its 
impetus  and  was  sweeping  the  entire  drive  down 
through  the  gap. 

Rank  after  rank,  like  soldiers  charging,  they  ran. 
The  great  fierce  wind  caught  them  up  ahead  of  the  cur- 
rent. In  a  moment  the  open  river  .was  full  of  logs  jost- 
ling eagerly  onward.  Then  suddenly,  far  out  above 
the  uneven  tossing  skyline  of  Superior,  the  strange 
northern  "  loom,"  or  mirage,  threw  the  specters  of 
thousands  of  restless  timbers  rising  and  falling  on  the 
bosom  of  the  lake. 


Chapter  LVI 


rHEY  stood  and  watched  them  go. 
"  Oh,  the  great  man !     Oh,  the  great  man !  * 
murmured  the  writer,  fascinated. 

The  grandeur  of  the  sacrifice  had  struck  them 
dumb.  They  did  not  understand  the  motives  beneath 
it  all,  but  the  fact  was  patent.  Big  Junko  broke  down 
and  sobbed. 

After  a  time  the  stream  of  logs  through  the  gap 
slackened.  In  a  moment  more,  save  for  the  inevitably 
stranded  few,  the  booms  were  empty.  A  deep  sigh 
went  up  from  the  attentive  multitude. 

"  She's  gone!  "  said  one  man,  with  the  emphasis  of 
a  novel  discovery ;  and  groaned. 

Then  the  awe  broke  from  about  their  minds,  and 
they  spoke  many  opinions  and  speculations.  Thorpe 
had  disappeared.  They  respected  his  emotion  and  did 
not  follow  him. 

"  It  was  just  plain  damn  foolishness ;  —  but  it  was 
great !  "  said  Shearer.  "  That  no-account  jackass  of  a 
Big  Junko  ain't  worth  as  much  per  thousand  feet  as 
good  white  pine." 

Then  they  noticed  a  group  of  men  gathering  about 
the  office  steps,  and  on  it  someone  talking.  Collins, 
the  bookkeeper,  was  making  a  speech. 

Collins  was  a  little  hatchet-faced  man,  with  straight, 
lank  hair,  nearsighted  eyes,  a  timid,  order-loving  dis- 
position, and  a  great  suitability  'jr  his  profession.  He 
was  accurate,  unemotional,  and  valuable.  All  his 
actions  were  as  dry  as  the  saw-dust  in  the  burner. 
No  one  had  ever  seen  him  excited.  But  he  was 

382 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  383 

human;  and  now  his  knowledge  of  the  Company's 
affairs  showed  him  the  dramatic  contrast  He  knew! 
He  knew  that  the  property  of  the  firm  had  been 
mortgaged  to  the  last  dollar  in  order  to  assist  expan- 
sion, so  that  not  another  cent  could  be  borrowed 
to  tide  over  present  difficulty.  He  knew  that  the  notes 
for  sixty  thousand  dollars  covering  the  loan  to  Wal- 
lace Carpenter  came  due  in  three  months;  he  knew 
from  the  long  table  of  statistics  which  he  was  eternally 
preparing  and  comparing  that  the  season's  cut  should 
have  netted  a  profit  of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
—  enough  to  pay  the  interest  on  the  mortgages,  to 
take  up  the  notes,  and  to  furnish  a  working  capital  for 
the  ensuing  year.  These  things  he  knew  in  the  strange 
concrete  arithmetical  manner  of  the  routine  book- 
keeper. Other  men  saw  a  desperate  phase  of  firm 
rivalry;  he  saw  a  struggle  to  the  uttermost.  Other 
men  cheered  a  rescue :  he  thrilled  over  the  magnificent 
gesture  of  the  Gambler  scattering  his  stake  in  largesse 
to  Death. 

It  was  the  simple  turning  of  the  hand  from  full 
breathed  prosperity  to  lifeless  failure. 

His  view  was  the  inverse  of  his  master's.  To 
Thorpe  it  had  suddenly  become  a  very  little  thing  in 
contrast  to  the  great,  sweet  elemental  truth  that  the 
dream  girl  had  enunciated.  To  Collins  the  affair  was 
miles  vaster  than  the  widest  scope  of  his  own  narrow 
life. 

The  firm  could  not  take  up  its  notes  when  they  came 
due ;  it  could  not  pay  the  interest  on  the  mortgages, 
which  would  now  be  foreclosed ;  it  could  not  even  pay 
in  full  the  men  who  had  worked  for  it  —  that  would 
come  under  a  court's  adjudication. 

He  had  therefore  watched  Thorpe's  desperate  sally 
to  mend  the  weakened  chain,  in  all  the  suspense  of  a 
man  whose  entire  universe  is  in  the  keeping  of  the 
chance  moment.  It  must  be  remembered  that  at  bot- 


384  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

torn,  below  the  outer  consciousness,  Thorpe's  final  de- 
cision had  already  grown  to  maturity.  On  the  other 
hand,  no  other  thought  than  that  of  accomplishment 
had  even  entered  the  little  bookkeeper's  head.  The 
rescue  and  all  that  it  had  meant  had  hit  him  like  a 
stroke  of  apoplexy,  and  his  thin  emotions  had  curdled 
to  hysteria.  Full  of  the  idea  he  appeared  before  the 
men. 

With  rapid,  almost  incoherent  speech  he  poured  it 
out  to  them.  Professional  caution  and  secrecy  were 
forgotten.  Wallace  Carpenter  attempted  to  push 
through  the  ring  for  the  purpose  of  stopping  him. 
A  gigantic  riverman  kindly  but  firmly  held  him  back. 

"  I  guess  it's  just  as  well  we  hears  this,"  said  the 
latter. 

It  all  came  out  —  the  loan  to  Carpenter,  with  a  hint 
at  the  motive :  the  machinations  of  the  rival  firm  on  the 
Board  of  Trade ;  the  notes,  the  mortgages,  the  neces- 
sity of  a  big  season's  cut ;  the  reasons  the  rival  firm  had 
for  wishing  to  prevent  that  cut  from  arriving  at  the 
market ;  the  desperate  and  varied  means  they  had  em- 
ployed. The  men  listened  silent.  Hamilton,  his  eyes 
glowing  like  coals,  drank  in  every  word.  Here  was 
the  master  motive  he  had  sought;  here  was  the  story 
great  to  his  hand  1 

"  That's  what  we  ought  to  get,"  cried  Collins,  almost 
weeping,  "  and  now  we've  gone  and  bust,  just  because 
that  infernal  river-hog  had  to  fall  off  a  boom.  By 
God,  it's  a  shame  1  Those  scalawags  have  done  us 
after  all  1" 

Out  from  the  shadows  of  the  woods  stole  Injin 
Charley.  The  whole  bearing  and  aspect  of  the  man 
had  changed.  His  eye  gleamed  with  a  distant  far- 
seeing  fire  of  its  own,  which  took  no  account  of  any- 
thing but  some  remote  vision.  He  stole  along  almost 
furtively,  but  with  a  proud  upright  carriage  of  his 
neck,  a  backward  tilt  of  his  fine  head,  a  distention  oi 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  385 

his  nostrils  that  lent  to  his  appearance  a  panther-like 
pride  and  stealthiness.  No  one  saw  him.  Suddenly 
he  broke  through  the  group  and  mounted  the  steps 
beside  Collins. 

"  The  enemy  of  my  brother  is  gone,"  said  he  simply 
in  his  native  tongue,  and  with  a  sudden  gesture  held 
out  before  them  —  a  scalp. 

The  medieval  barbarity  of  the  thing  appalled  them 
for  a  moment.  The  days  of  scalping  were  long  since 
past,  had  been  closed  away  between  the  pages  of  for- 
gotten histories,  and  yet  here  again  before  them  was 
the  thing  in  all  its  living  horror.  Then  a  growl  arose. 
The  human  animal  had  tasted  blood. 

All  at  once  like  wine  their  wrongs  mounted  to  their 
heads.  They  remembered  their  dead  comrades.  They 
remembered  the  heart-breaking  days  and  nights  of  tofl 
they  had  endured  on  account  of  this  man  and  his  asso- 
ciates. They  remembered  the  words  of  Collins,  the 
little  bookkeeper.  They  hated.  They  shook  their 
fists  across  the  skies.  They  turned  and  with  one  ac- 
cord struck  back  for  the  railroad  right-of-way  which 
led  to  Shingleville,  the  town  controlled  by  Morrison 
&  Daly. 

The  railroad  lay  for  a  mile  straight  through  a  thick 
tamarack  swamp,  then  over  a  nearly  treeless  cranberry 
plain.  The  tamarack  was  a  screen  between  the  two 
towns.  When  half-way  through  the  swamp,  Red- 
Jacket  stopped,  removed  his  coat,  ripped  the  lining 
from  it,  and  began  to  fashion  a  rude  mask. 

"  Just  as  well  they  don't  recognize  us,"  said  he. 

"  Somebody  in  town  will  give  us  away,"  suggested 
Shorty,  the  chore-boy. 

"  No,  they  won't ;  they're  all  here,"  assured  Kerlie. 

It  was  true.  Except  for  the  women  and  children, 
who  were  not  yet  about,  the  entire  village  had  assem- 
bled. Even  old  Vanderhoof,  the  fire-watcher  of  the 
yard,  hobbled  along  breathlessly  on  his  rheumatic 


3S6 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 


legs.  In  a  moment  the  masks  were  fitted.  In  a  mo- 
ment more  the  little  band  had  emerged  from  the  shel- 
ter of  the  swamp,  and  so  came  into  full  view  of  its  ob- 
jective point. 

Shingleville  consisted  of  a  big  mill ;  the  yards,  now 
nearly  empty  of  lumber;  the  large  frame  boarding- 
house  ;  the  office ;  the  stable ;  a  store ;  two  saloons ;  and 
a  dozen  dwellings.  The  party  at  once  fixed  its  eyes 
on  this  collection  of  buildings,  and  trudged  on  down 
the  right-of-way  with  unhastening  grimness. 

Their  approach  was  not  unobserved.  Daly  saw 
them ;  and  Baker,  his  foreman,  saw  them.  The  two 
at  once  went  forth  to  organize  opposition.  When  the 
attacking  party  reached  the  mill-yard,  it  found  the  boss 
and  the  foreman  standing  alone  on  the  sawdust,  re- 
volvers drawn. 

Daly  traced  a  line  with  his  toe. 

"  The  first  man  that  crosses  that  line  gets  it,"  said  he. 

They  knew  he  meant  what  he  said.  An  instant's 
pause  ensued,  while  the  big  man  and  the  little  faced 
a  mob.  Daly's  rivermen  were  still  on  drive.  He 
knew  the  mill  men  too  well  to  depend  on  them. 
Truth  to  tell,  the  possibility  of  such  a  raid  as  this  had 
not  occurred  to  him ;  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  did 
not  anticipate  the  discovery  of  his  complicity  with  the 
forces  of  nature.  Skillfully  carried  out,  the  plan  was 
a  good  one.  No  one  need  know  of  the  weakened 
link,  and  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world 
that  Sadler  &  Smith's  drive  should  go  out  with  the 
increase  of  water. 

The  men  grouped  swiftly  and  silently  on  the  other 
side  of  the  sawdust  line.  The  pause  did  not  mean  that 
Daly's  defense  was  good.  I  have  known  of  a  crew  of 
striking  mill  men  being  so  bluffed  down,  but  not  such 
men  as  these. 

"  Do  you  know  what's  going  to  happen  to  you  ?  " 
said  a  voice  from  the  group.  The  speaker  was  Rad* 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  387 

way,  but  the  contractor  kept  himself  well  in  the  back- 
ground. "  We're  going  to  burn  your  mill ;  we're  go- 
ing to  burn  your  yards;  we're  going  to  burn  your 
whole  shooting  match,  you  low-lived  whelp  1 " 

"  Yes,  and  we're  going  to  string  you  to  your  own 
trestle !  "  growled  another  voice  harshly. 

"  Dyer ! "  said  Injin  Charley,  simply,  shaking  the 
wet  scalp  arm's  length  towards  the  lumbermen. 

At  this  grim  interruption  a  silence  fell.  The  owner 
paled  slightly ;  his  foreman  chewed  a  nonchalant  straw. 
Down  the  still  and  deserted  street  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  the  subtle  occult  influences  of  a  half-hundred 
concealed  watchers.  Daly  and  his  subordinate  were 
very  much  alone,  and  very  much  in  danger.  Their 
last  hour  had  come ;  and  they  knew  it. 

With  the  recognition  of  the  fact,  they  immediately 
raised  their  weapons  in  the  resolve  to  do  as  much  dam- 
age as  possible  before  being  overpowered. 

Then  suddenly,  full  in  the  back,  a  heavy  stream  of 
water  knocked  them  completely  off  their  feet,  rolled 
them  over  and  over  on  the  wet  sawdust,  and  finally 
jammed  them  both  against  the  trestle,  where  it  held 
them,  kicking  and  gasping  for  breath,  in  a  choking 
cataract  of  water.  The  pistols  flew  harmlessly  into 
the  air.  For  an  instant  the  Fighting  Forty  stared  in 
paralyzed  astonishment.  Then  a  tremendous  roar  of 
laughter  saluted  this  easy  vanquishment  of  a  formida- 
ble enemy. 

Daly  and  Baker  were  pounced  upon  and  captured. 
There  was  no  resistance.  They  were  too  nearly  stran- 
gled for  that.  Little  Solly  and  old  Vanderhoof  turned 
off  the  water  in  the  fire  hydrant  and  disconnected  the 
hose  they  had  so  effectively  employed. 

"  There,  damn  you !  "  said  Rollway  Charley,  jerking 
the  millman  to  his  feet.  "  How  do  you  like  too  much 
water  ?  hey  ?  " 

The  unexpected  comedy  changed  the  party's  mood. 


$88  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  killing.  A  number 
broke  into  the  store,  and  shortly  emerged,  bearing 
pails  of  kerosene  with  which  they  deluged  the  slabs  on 
the  windward  side  of  the  mill.  The  flames  caught  the 
structure  instantly.  A  thousand  sparks,  borne  by  the 
off-shore  breeze,  fastened  like  so  many  stinging  insects 
on  the  lumber  in  the  yard. 

It  burned  as  dried  balsam  thrown  on  a  camp  fire. 
The  heat  of  it  drove  the  onlookers  far  back  in  the  vil- 
lage, where  in  silence  they  watched  the  destruction. 
From  behind  locked  doors  the  inhabitants  watched 
with  them. 

The  billow  of  white  smoke  filled  the  northern  sky. 
A  whirl  of  gray  wood  ashes,  light  as  air,  floated  on  and 
ever  on  over  Superior.  The  site  of  the  mill,  the 
squares  where  the  piles  of  lumber  had  stood,  glowed 
incandescence  over  which  already  a  white  film  was 
forming. 

Daly  and  his  man  were  slapped  and  cuffed  hither 
and  thither  at  the  men's  wilL  Their  faces  bled,  their 
bodies  ached  as  one  bruise. 

"  That  squares  us,"  said  the  men.  "  If  we  can't  cut 
this  year,  neither  kin  you.  It's  up  to  you  now !  " 

Then,  like  a  destroying  horde  of  locusts,  they  gutted 
the  office  and  the  store,  smashing  what  they  could  not 
carry  to  the  fire.  The  dwellings  and  saloons  they  did 
not  disturb.  Finally,  about  noon,  they  kicked  their 
two  prisoners  into  the  river,  and  took  their  way  strag- 
glingly  back  along  the  right-of-way. 

"  I  surmise  we  took  that  town  apart  some! "  re- 
marked Shorty  with  satisfaction. 

"  I  should  rise  to  remark,"  replied  Kerlie.  Big 
Junko  said  nothing,  but  his  cavernous  little  animal 
eyes  glowed  with  satisfaction.  He  had  been  the  firs* 
to  lay  hands  on  Daly ;  he  had  helped  to  carry  the  pe- 
troleum ;  he  had  struck  the  first  match ;  he  had  evea 
administered  the  final  kick. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

At  the  boarding-house  they  found  Wallace  Carpen- 
ter and  Hamilton  seated  on  the  veranda.  It  was  now 
afternoon.  The  wind  had  abated  somewhat,  and  the 
sun  was  struggling  with  the  still  flying  scuds. 

"  Hello,  boys,"  said  Wallace,  "  been  for  a  little  walk 
in  the  woods  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jack  Hyland,  "  we " 

"  I'd  rather  not  hear,"  interrupted  Wallace. 
*  There's  quite  a  fire  over  east.  I  suppose  you  haven't 
noticed  it." 

Hyland  looked  gravely  eastward. 

"  Sure  'nough !  "  said  he. 

**  Better  get  some  grub,"  suggested  Wallace. 

After  the  men  had  gone  in,  he  turned  to  the  jour- 
nalist. 

"  Hamilton,"  he  began,  "  write  all  you  know  about 
the  drive,  and  the  break,  and  the  rescue,  but  as  to  the 
burning  of  the  mill " 

The  other  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good,"  said  Wallace  offering  his  own. 

And  that  was  as  far  as  the  famous  Shingleville  raid 
ever  got.  Daly  did  his  best  to  collect  even  circum- 
stantial evidence  against  the  participants,  but  in  vain, 
He  could  not  even  get  anyone  to  say  that  a  single  mem- 
ber of  the  village  of  Carpenter  had  absented  himself 
from  town  that  morning.  This  might  have  been  from 
loyalty,  or  it  might  have  been  from  fear  of  the  ven- 
geance the  Fighting  Forty  would  surely  visit  on  a 
traitor.  Probably  it  was  a  combination  of  both.  The 
fact  remains,  however,  that  Daly  never  knew  surely 
of  but  one  man  implicated  in  the  destruction  of  his 
plant.  That  man  was  Injin  Charley,  but  Injin  Char- 
ley promptly  disappeared. 

After  an  interval,  Tim  Shearer,  Radway  and  Kerlie 
came  out  again. 

"  Where's  the  boss  ?  "  asked  Shearer. 

"  I  don't  know,  Tim,"  replied  Wallace  seriously. 


390  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  I've  looked  everywhere.  He's  gone.  He  must  have 
been  all  cut  up.  I  think  he  went  out  in  the  woods  to 
get  over  it.  I  am  not  worrying.  Harry  has  lots  of 
sense.  He'll  come  in  about  dark." 

"Sure!  "said  Tim. 

"  How  about  the  boy's  stakes  ?  °  queried  Radway. 
"  I  hear  this  is  a  bad  smash  for  the  firm." 

"  We'll  see  that  the  men  get  their  wages  all  right," 
replied  Carpenter,  a  little  disappointed  that  such  a 
question  should  be  asked  at  such  a  time. 

"  All  right,"  rejoined  the  contractor.  "  We're  si 
going  to  need  our  money  this  summer." 


Chapter  LVII 


rHORPE  walked  through  the  silent  group  oi 
men  without  seeing  them.  He  had  no  thought 
for  what  he  had  done,  but  for  the  triumphant 
discovery  he  had  made  in  spite  of  himself.  This  he 
saw  at  once  as  something  to  glory  in  and  as  a  duty  to 
be  fulfilled. 

It  was  then  about  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Thorpe  passed  the  boarding-house,  the  store,  and  the 
office,  to  take  himself  as  far  as  the  little  open  shed  that 
served  the  primitive  town  as  a  railway  station.  There 
he  set  the  semaphore  to  flag  the  east-bound  train  from 
Duluth.  At  six  thirty-two,  the  train  happening  on 
time,  he  climbed  aboard.  He  dropped  heavily  into  a 
seat  and  stared  straight  in  front  of  him  until  the  con- 
ductor had  spoken  to  him  twice. 

"  Where  to,  Mr.  Thorpe?  "  he  asked. 

The  latter  gazed  at  him  uncomprehendingly. 

"  Oh !    Mackinaw  City,"  he  replied  at  last. 

*'  How're  things  going  up  your  way  ?  "  inquired  the 
conductor  by  way  of  conversation  while  he  made  out 
the  pay-slip. 

"  Good  1 "  responded  Thorpe  mechanically. 

The  act  of  paying  for  his  fare  brought  to  his  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  but  a  little  over  ten  dollars  with 
^him.  He  thrust  the  change  back  into  his  pocket,  and 
took  up  his  contemplation  of  nothing.  The  river  water 
dripped  slowly  from  his  "  cork  "  boots  to  form  a  pool 
on  the  car  floor.  The  heavy  wool  of  his  short  driving 
trousers  steamed  in  the  car's  warmth.  His  shoulders 
dried  in  a  little  cloud  of  vapor.  He  noticed  none  oi 


392  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

these  things,  but  stared  ahead,  his  gaze  vacant,  the 
bronze  of  his  face  set  in  the  lines  of  a  brown  study, 
his  strong  capable  hands  hanging  purposeless  between 
his  knees.  The  ride  to  Mackinaw  City  was  six  hours 
long,  and  the  train  in  addition  lost  some  ninety 
minutes ;  but  in  all  this  distance  Thorpe  never  altered 
his  pose  nor  his  fixed  attitude  of  attention  to  some 
inner  voice. 

The  car-ferry  finally  landed  them  on  the  southern 
peninsula.  Thorpe  descended  at  Mackinaw  City  to 
find  that  the  noon  train  had  gone.  He  ate  a  lunch  at 
the  hotel,  —  borrowed  a  hundred  dollars  from  the 
agent  of  Louis  Sands,  a  lumberman  of  his  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  seated  himself  rigidly  in  the  little  waiting 
room,  there  to  remain  until  the  nine-twenty  that  night. 
When  the  cars  were  backed  down  from  the  siding,  he 
boarded  the  sleeper.  In  the  doorway  stood  a  disap- 
proving colored  porter. 

"  Yo'll  fin'  the  smokin'  cah  up  fo'wu'd,  suh,"  said 
the  latter,  firmly  barring  the  way. 

"  It's  generally  forward,"  answered  Thorpe. 

'*  This  yeah's  th'  sleepah,"  protested  the  functionary. 
**  You  pays  extry." 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,"  replied  Thorpe  curtly.  "  Give 
me  a  lower." 

"  Yessah!"  acquiesced  the  darkey,  giving  way,  but 
still  in  doubt  He  followed  Thorpe  curiously,  peering 
into  the  smoking  room  on  him  from  time  to  time.  A 
little  after  twelve  his  patience  gave  out.  The  stolid 
gloomy  man  of  lower  six  seemed  to  intend  sitting  up 
all  night. 

"  Yo'  berth  is  ready,  sah,"  he  delicately  suggested. 

Thorpe  arose  obediently,  walked  to  lower  six,  and, 
without  undressing,  threw  himself  on  the  bed.  After- 
wards the  porter,  in  conscientious  discharge  of  his 
duty,  looked  diligently  beneath  the  seat  for  boots  to 
polish.  Happening  to  glance  up,  after  fruitless  search. 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

he  discovered  the  boots  still  adorning  the  feet  of  their 
owner. 

"  Well,  for  th'  lands  sake ! "  ejaculated  the  scandal- 
ized negro,  beating  a  hasty  retreat. 

He  was  still  more  scandalized  when,  the  following 
noon,  his  strange  fare  brushed  by  him  without  bestow- 
ing the  expected  tip. 

Thorpe  descended  at  Twelfth  Street  in  Chicago 
without  any  very  clear  notion  of  where  he  was  going. 
For  a  moment  he  faced  the  long  park-like  expanse  of 
the  lake  front,  then  turned  sharp  to  his  left  and  picked 
his  way  south  up  the  interminable  reaches  of  Michigan 
Avenue.  He  did  this  without  any  conscious  motive, 
—  mainly  because  the  reaches  seemed  interminable, 
and  he  proved  the  need  of  walking.  Block  after  block 
he  clicked  along,  the  caulks  of  his  boots  striking  fire 
from  the  pavement.  Some  people  stared  at  him  a  lit- 
tle curiously.  Others  merely  glanced  in  his  direction, 
attracted  more  by  the  expression  of  his  face  than  the 
peculiarity  of  his  dress.  At  that  time  rivermen  were 
not  an  uncommon  sight  along  the  water  front. 

After  an  interval  he  seemed  to  have  left  the  smoke 
and  dirt  behind.  The  street  became  quieter.  Board- 
ing-houses and  tailors'  shops  ceased.  Here  and  there 
appeared  a  bit  of  lawn,  shrubbery,  flowers.  The  resi- 
dences established  an  uptown  crescendo  of  magnifi- 
cence. Policemen  seemed  trimmer,  better -gloved. 
Occasionally  he  might  have  noticed  in  front  of  one  of 
the  sandstone  piles,  a  besilvered  pair  champing  before 
a  stylish  vehicle.  By  and  by  he  came  to  himself  to 
find  that  he  was  staring  at  the  deep-carved  lettering  in 
a  stone  horse-block  before  a  large  dwelling. 

His  mind  took  the  letters  in  one  after  the  other,  per- 
ceiving them  plainly  before  it  accorded  them  recogni- 
tion. Finally  he  had  completed  the  word  FarrawL 
He  whirled  sharp  on  his  heel,  mounted  the  broad 
white  stone  steps,  and  rang  the  bell. 


394  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

It  was  answered  almost  immediately  by  a  clean- 
shaven, portly  and  dignified  man  with  the  most  impas- 
sive countenance  in  the  world.  This  man  looked  upon 
Thorpe  with  lofty  disapproval. 

"  Is  Miss  Hilda  Farrand  at  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  the  man.  "  If  you  will  step 
to  the  back  door,  I  will  ascertain." 

"  The  flowers  will  do.  Now  see  that  the  south  room 
ie  ready,  Annie,"  floated  a  voice  from  within. 

Without  a  word,  but  with  a  deadly  earnestness,, 
Thorpe  reached  forward,  seized  the  astonished  servant 
by  the  collar,  yanked  him  bodily  outside  the  door, 
stepped  inside,  and  strode  across  the  hall  toward  a 
closed  portiere  whence  had  come  the  voice.  The 
riverman's  long  spikes  cut  little  triangular  pieces  from 
the  hardwood  floor.  Thorpe  did  not  notice  that  He 
thrust  aside  the  portiere. 

Before  him  he  saw  a  young  and  beautiful  girl.  She 
was  seated,  and  her  lap  was  filled  with  flowers.  At  his 
sudden  apparition,  her  hands  flew  to  her  heart,  and 
her  lips  slightly  parted.  For  a  second  the  two  stood 
looking  at  each  other,  just  as  nearly  a  year  before  their 
eyes  had  crossed  over  the  old  pole  trail. 

To  Thorpe  the  girl  seemed  more  beautiful  than  ever. 
She  exceeded  even  his  retrospective  dreams  of  her, 
for  the  dream  had  persistently  retained  something  of 
the  quality  of  idealism  which  made  the  vision  unreal, 
while  the  woman  before  him  had  become  human  flesh 
and  blood,  adorable,  to  be  desired.  The  red  of  this 
violent  unexpected  encounter  rushed  to  her  face,  her 
bosom  rose  and  fell  in  a  fluttering  catch  for  breath; 
but  her  eyes  were  steady  and  inquiring. 

Then  the  butler  pounced  on  Thorpe  from  behind 
with  the  intent  to  do  great  bodily  harm. 

M  Morris  1 "  commanded  Hilda  sharply,  "  what  arc 
you  doing  ?  " 

The  man  cut  short  his  heroism  in  confusion, 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  You  may  go,"  concluded  Hilda. 

Thorpe  stood  straight  and  unwinking  by  the  straight 
portiere.  After  a  moment  he  spoke. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  you  were  right  and  I 
was  wrong,"  said  he  steadily.  "  You  told  me  there 
could  be  nothing  better  than  love.  In  the  pride  of  my 
strength  I  told  you  this  was  not  so.  I  was  wrong." 

He  stood  for  another  instant,  looking  directly  at 
her,  then  turned  sharply,  and  head  erect  walked  from 
the  room. 

Before  he  had  reached  the  outer  door  the  girl  was 
at  his  side. 

"  Why  are  you  going  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

"  Nothing?  " 

44  Nothing  at  all." 

She  laughed  happily  to  herself. 

"  But  I  have  —  much.     Come  back." 

They  returned  to  the  little  morning  room,  Thorpe's! 
caulked  boots  gouging  out  the  little  triangular  fur- 
rows in  the  hardwood  floor.  Neither  noticed  that. 
Morris,  the  butler,  emerged  from  his  hiding  and  held 
tip  the  hands  of  horror. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?  "  she  catechised, 
facing  him  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  A  long  tendril 
of  her  beautiful  corn-silk  hair  fell  across  her  eyes ;  her 
red  lips  parted  in  a  faint  wistful  smile;  beneath  the 
draperies  of  her  loose  gown  the  pure  slender  lines  of 
her  figure  leaned  toward  him. 

"  I  am  going  back,"  he  replied  patiently. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  said  she.  "  I  have  been 
expecting  you." 

She  raised  one  hand  to  brush  back  the  tendril  of 
hair,  but  it  was  a  mechanical  gesture,  one  that  did  not 
stir  even  the  surface  consciousness  of  the  strange 
half-smiling,  half-wistful,  starry  gaze  with  which  she 
watched  his  face. 


396  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

"  Oh,  Harry,"  she  breathed,  with  a  sudden  flash  ol 
insight,  "  you  are  a  man  born  to  be  much  misunder- 
stood/' 

He  held  himself  rigid,  but  in  his  veins  was  creeping 
a  molten  fire,  and  the  fire  was  beginning  to  glow 
dully  in  his  eye.  Her  whole  being  called  him.  His 
heart  leaped,  his  breath  came  fast,  his  eyes  swam. 
With  almost  hypnotic  fascination  the  idea  obsessed 
him  —  to  kiss  her  lips,  to  press  the  soft  body  of  the 
young  girl,  to  tumble  her  hair  down  about  her  flower 
face.  He  had  not  come  for  this.  He  tried  to  steady 
himself,  and  by  an  effort  that  left  him  weak  he  suc- 
ceeded. Then  a  new  flood  of  passion  overcame  him. 
In  the  later  desire  was  nothing  of  the  old  humble  ado- 
ration. It  was  elemental,  real,  almost  a  little  savage. 
He  wanted  to  seize  her  so  fiercely  as  to  hurt  her. 
Something  caught  his  throat,  filled  his  lungs,  weak- 
ened his  kfaees.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  was  going  to  faint. 

And  still  she  stood  there  before  him,  saying  nothing, 
leaning  slightly  towards  him,  her  red  lips  half  parted, 
her  eyes  fixed  almost  wistfully  on  his  face. 

"  Go  away ! "  he  whispered  hoarsely  at  last.  The 
voice  was  not  his  own.  "  Go  away  1  Go  away  I " 

Suddenly  she  swayed  to  him. 

"  Oh,  Harry,  Harry,"  she  whispered,  "  must  I  tdl 
you?  Don't  you  see?  " 

The  flood  broke  through  him.  He  seized  her 
hungrily.  He  crushed  her  to  him  until  she  gasped: 
he  pressed  his  lips  against  hers  until  she  all  but  cried 
out  with  the  pain  of  it ;  he  ran  his  great  brown  hands 
blindly  through  her  hair  until  it  came  down  about  them 
both  in  a  cloud  of  spun  light 

"  Tell  me  1 "  he  whispered.     "  Tell  me !  " 

"Oh!   Oh!  "she  cried.    "Please!    What  is  ft?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  he  murmured  savagely. 

She  drew  herself  from  him  with  gentle  dignity. 


397 

*  I  am  not  worthy  to  say  it,"  she  said  soberly,  "  but 
I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul ! " 

Then  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  his  life  Thorpe 
fell  to  weeping,  while  she,  understanding,  stood  by  and 
comforted  him. 


Chapter    LVIII 


rHE  few  moments  of  Thorpe's  tears  eased  the 
emotional  strain  under  which,  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, he  had  been  laboring  for  nearly  a  year 
past.  The  tenseness  of  his  nerves  relaxed.  He  was 
able  to  look  on  the  things  about  him  from  a  broader 
standpoint  than  that  of  the  specialist,  to  front  life  with 
saving  humor.  The  deep  breath  after  striving  could 
at  last  be  taken. 

In  this  new  attitude  there  was  nothing  strenuous, 
nothing  demanding  haste ;  only  a  deep  glow  of  content 
and  happiness.  He  savored  deliberately  the  joy  of  a 
luxurious  couch,  rich  hangings,  polished  floor,  sub- 
dued light,  wanned  atmosphere.  He  watched  with 
soul-deep  gratitude  the  soft  girlish  curves  of  Hilda's 
body,  the  poise  of  her  flower  head,  the  piquant,  half- 
wistful,  half-childish  set  of  her  red  lips,  the  clear  star- 
like  glimmer  of  her  dusky  eyes.  It  was  all  near  to 
ihim ;  his. 

"  Kiss  me,  dear,"  he  said. 

She  swayed  to  him  again,  deliciously  graceful,  deli- 
clously  unselfconscious,  trusting,  adorable.  Already 
in  the  little  nothingnesses  of  manner,  the  trifles  of 
mental  and  bodily  attitude,  she  had  assumed  that 
faint  trace  of  the  maternal  which  to  the  observant 
tells  so  plainly  that  a  woman  has  given  herself  to  a 
man. 

She  leaned  her  cheek  against  her  hand,  and  her  hand 
against  his  shoulder. 

"  I  have  been  reading  a  story  lately,"  said  she, "  that 
has  interested  me  very  much.  It  was  about  a  man 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

renounced  all  he  held  most  dear  to  shield  a 
friend.0 

M  Yes,w  said  Thorpe. 

"  Then  he  renounced  all  his  most  valuable  posses- 
sions because  a  poor  common  man  needed  the  sacri- 
fice." 

"  Sounds  like  a  medieval  story,"  said  he  with  uncon- 
scious humor. 

"  It  happened  recently,"  rejoined  Hilda.  "  I  read  it 
in  the  papers." 

"  Well,  he  blazed  a  good  trail,"  was  Thorpe's  sigh- 
ing comment.  "  Probably  he  had  his  chance.  We 
don't  all  of  us  get  that.  Things  go  crooked  and  get 
tangled  up,  so  we  have  to  do  the  best  we  can.  I  don't 
believe  I'd  have  done  it." 

"  Oh,  you  are  delicious !  "  she  cried. 

After  a  time  she  said  very  humbly :  "  I  want  to  beg 
your  pardon  for  misunderstanding  you  and  causing 
you  so  much  suffering.  I  was  very  stupid,  and  didn't 
see  why  you  could  not  do  as  I  wanted  you  to." 

"'  That  is  nothing  to  forgive.     I  acted  like  a  fool." 

"  I  have  known  about  you,"  she  went  on.  "  It  has 
all  come  out  in  the  Telegram.  It  has  been  very  excit- 
ing. Poor  boy,  you  look  tired." 

He  straightened  himself  suddenly.  **  I  have  forgot- 
ten,—  actually  forgotten,"  he  cried  a  little  bitterly. 
"  Why,  I  am  a  pauper,  a  bankrupt,  I " 

"  Harry,"  she  interrupted  gently,  but  very  firmly, 
"you  must  not  say  what  you  were  going  to  say.  I 
cannot  allow  it,  Money  came  between  us  before.  It 
must  not  do  so  again.  Am  I  not  right,  dear  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  him  with  the  lips  of  a  child  and  the 
eyes  of  a  woman. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed  after  a  struggle,  "  you  are  right 
But  now  I  must  begin  all  over  again.  It  will  be  a  long 
time  before  I  shall  be  able  to  claim  you.  I  have  my 
way  to  make." 


400  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

**  Yes,"  said  she  diplomatically. 

"  But  you  1 "  he  cried  suddenly.  "  The  papers  re- 
mind me.  How  about  that  Morton  ?  " 

"What  about  him?"  asked  the  girl,  astonished 
"  He  is  very  happily  engaged." 

Thorpe's  face  slowly  filled  with  blood. 

"  You'll  break  the  engagement  at  once,"  he  com- 
manded a  little  harshly. 

"  Why  should  I  break  the  engagement  ?  "  demanded 
Hilda,  eying  him  with  some  alarm. 

"  I  should  think  it  was  obvious  enough." 

"  But  it  isn't,"  she  insisted.     "  Why  ?  " 

Thorpe  was  silent  —  as  he  always  had  been  in  emer- 
gencies, and  as  he  was  destined  always  to  be.  His  was 
not  a  nature  of  expression,  but  of  action.  A  crisis 
always  brought  him,  like  a  bull-dog,  silently  to  the 

grip- 
Hilda  watched  him  puzzled,  with  bright  eyes,  like 
a  squirrel.  Her  quick  brain  glanced  here  and 
there  among  the  possibilities,  seeking  the  explana- 
tion. Already  she  knew  better  than  to  demand  it  of 
him. 

"  You,  actually  don't  think  he's  engaged  to  me!  "  sh< 
burst  out  finally. 
"  Isn't  he  ?  "  asked  Tnorpe. 

"  Why  no,  stupid !  He's  engaged  to  Elizabeth  Car- 
penter, Wallace's  sister.  Now  where  did  you  get  that 
silly  idea?" 

"  I  saw  it  in  the  paper." 

"  And  you  believe  all  you  see !  Why  didn't  you  ask 
Wallace  —  but  of  course  you  wouldn  t !  Harry,  yov 
are  the  most  incoherent  dumb  old  brute  I  ever  saw ! 
I  could  shake  you  1  Why  don't  you  say  something  oc- 
casionally when  it's  needed,  instead  of  sitting  dumb  as 
a  sphinx  and  getting  into  all  sorts  of  trouble?  But 
you  never  will.  I  know  you.  You  dear  old  bear! 
You  need  a  wife  to  interpret  things  for  you.  You 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  401 

a  different  language  from  most  people."  She 
said  this  between  laughing  and  crying ;  between  a  sense 
of  the  ridiculous  uselessness  of  withholding  a  single 
timely  word,  and  a  tender  pathetic  intuition  of  the  suf- 
fering such  a  nature  must  endure.  In  the  prospect  of 
the  future  she  saw  her  use.  It  gladdened  her  and  filled 
her  with  a  serene  happiness  possible  only  to  those 
who  feel  themselves  a  necessary  and  integral  part  in 
the  lives  of  the  ones  they  love.  Dimly  she  perceived 
this  truth.  Dimly  beyond  it  she  glimpsed  that  other 
great  truth  of  nature,  that  the  human  being  is  rarely 
completely  efficient  alone,  that  in  obedience  to  his 
greater  use  he  must  take  to  himself  a  mate  before  he 
can  succeed. 

Suddenly  she  jumped  to  her  feet  with  an  exclama- 
tion. 

"Oh,  Harry!  I'd  forgotten  utterly!"  she  cried  in 
laughing  consternation.  "  I  "have  a  luncheon  here 
at  half-past  one!  It's  almost  that  now.  I  must  run 
and  dress.  Just  look  at  me;  just  look!  You  did 
that!" 

"  I'll  wait  here  until  the  confounded  thing  is  over," 
said  Thorpe. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  replied  Hilda  decidedly. 
"  You  are  going  down  town  right  now  and  get  some- 
thing to  put  on.  Then  you  are  coming  back  here  to 
stay." 

Thorpe  glanced  in  surprise  at  his  driver's  clothes, 
and  his  spiked  boots. 

"  Heavens  and  earth !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  should 
think  so !  How  am  I  to  get  out  without  ruining  the 
floor?" 

Hilda  laughed  and  drew  aside  the  portiere. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  have  done  that  pretty  well 
already  ?  "  she  asked.  "  There,  don't  look  so  solemn, 
We're  not  going  to  be  sorry  for  a.  single  thing  we've 


402  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

done  to-day,  are  we  ?  "  She  stood  close  to  him  hold- 
ing the  lapels  of  his  jacket  in  either  hand,  searching 
his  face  wistfully  with  her  fathomless  dusky  eyes. 

"  No,   sweetheart,  we   are   not,"   replied    Thorpe 
soberly. 


Chapter   LIX 


it  is  useless  to  follow  the  sequel  in  <fe» 
tafl,  to  tell  how  Hilda  persuaded  Thorpe  to  take 
her  money.  She  aroused  skillfully  his  fighting 
blood,  induced  him  to  use  one  fortune  to  rescue  an- 
other. To  a  woman  such  as  she  this  was  not  a  very 
difficult  task  in  the  long  run.  A  few  scruples  of  pride ;" 
that  was  all. 

"  Do  not  consider  its  being  mine,"  she  answered  to 
his  objections.  "  Remember  the  lesson  we  learned  so 
bitterly.  Nothing  can  be  greater  than  love,  not  even 
our  poor  ideals.  You  have  my  love ;  do  not  disappoint 
me  by  refusing  so  little  a  thing  as  my  money." 

"I  hate  to  do  it,"  he  replied;  "it  doesn't  look 
right." 

M  You  must,"  she  insisted.  "  I  will  not  take  the  po- 
sition of  rich  wife  to  a  poor  man ;  it  is  humiliating  to 
both.  I  will  not  marry  you  until  you  have  made  your 
success." 

"  That  is  right,"  said  Thorpe  heartily. 

"  Well,  then,  are  you  going  to  be  so  selfish  as  to 
keep  me  waiting  while  you  make  an  entirely  new  start, 
when  a  little  help  on  my  part  will  bring  your  plans  to 
completion  ?  " 

She  saw  the  shadow  of  assent  in  his  eyes. 

"  How  much  do  you  need  ?  "  she  asked  swiftly. 

"  I  must  take  up  the  notes,"  he  explained.  "  I  must 
pay  the  men.  I  may  need  something  on  the  stock- 
market.  If  I  go  in  on  this  thing,  I'm  going  in  for 
keeps.  I'll  get  after  those  fellows  who  have  beea 

403 


404  THE   bLAZED   TRAIL 

swindling  Wallace.  Say  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

"  Why,  it's  nothing,"  she  cried. 

**  I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  he  replied  grimly. 

She  ran  to  her  dainty  escritoire,  where  she  scribbled 
eagerly  for  a  few  moments. 

"  There,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  shining,  "  there  is  my 
check  book  all  signed  in  blank.  I'll  see  that  the 
money  is  there.'* 

Thorpe  took  the  book,  staring  at  it  with  sightless 
eyes.  Hilda,  perched  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  watched 
his  face  closely,  as  later  became  her  habit  of  interpre- 
tation. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

Thorpe  looked  up  with  a  pitiful  little  smile  that 
seemed  to  beg  indulgence  for  what  he  was  about  to 
say. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,  dear.  I  used  to  imagine  I  was 
a  strong  man,  yet  see  how  little  my  best  efforts  amount 
to.  I  have  put  myself  into  seven  years  of  the  hardest 
labor,  working  like  ten  men  in  order  to  succeed.  I 
have  foreseen  all  that  mortal  could  foresee.  I  have 
always  thought,  and  think  now,  that  a  man  is  no  man 
unless  he  works  out  the  sort  of  success  for  which  he  is 
fitted.  I  have  done  fairly  well  until  the  crises  came. 
Then  I  have  been  absolutely  powerless,  and  if  left  to 
myself,  I  would  have  failed.  At  the  times  when  a 
really  strong  man  would  have  used  effectively  the 
strength  he  had  been  training,  I  have  fallen  back  mis- 
erably on  outer  aid.  Three  times  my  affairs  have  be- 
come critical.  In  the  crises  I  have  been  saved,  first 
by  a  mere  boy ;  then  by  an  old  illiterate  man ;  now  by  a 
weak  woman  1 " 

She  heard  him  through  in  silence. 

"  Harry,"  she  said  soberly  when  he  had  quite  fin- 
ished, "  I  agree  with  you  that  God  meant  the  strong 
man  to  succeed ;  that  without  success  the  man  has  not 


THE  BLAZED   TRAIL  405 

fulfilled  his  reason  for  being.  But,  Harry,  are  you 
quite  sure  that  God  meant  him  to  succeed  alone  f  " 

The  dusk  fell  through  the  little  room.  Out  in  the 
hallway  a  tall  clock  ticked  solemnly.  A  noiseless  ser- 
vant appeared  in  the  doorway  to  light  the  lamps,  but 
was  silently  motioned  away. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said  Thorpe  at  last. 

"  You  men  are  so  selfish,"  went  on  Hilda.  "  You 
would  take  everything  from  us.  Why  can't  you  leave 
us  the  poor  little  privilege  of  the  occasional  deciding 
touch,  the  privilege  of  succor.  It  is  all  that  weakness 
can  do  for  strength." 

"  And  why,"  she  went  on  after  a  moment,  "  why  is 
not  that,  too,  a  part  of  a  man's  success  —  the  gathering 
about  him  of  people  who  can  and  will  supplement  his 
efforts  ?  Who  was  it  inspired  Wallace  Carpenter  with 
confidence  in  an  unknown  man  ?  You.  What  did  it? 
Those  very  qualities  by  which  you  were  building  your 
success.  Why  did  John  Radway  join  forces  with  you  ? 
How  does  it  happen  that  your  men  are  of  so  high  a 
standard  of  efficiency  ?  Why  am  I  willing  to  give  you 
everything,  everything,  to  my  heart  and  soul?  Be- 
cause it  is  you  who  ask  it.  Because  you,  Harry 
Thorpe,  have  woven  us  into  your  fortune,  so  that  we 
have  no  choice.  Depend  upon  us  in  the  crises  of  your 
work !  Why,  so  are  you  dependent  on  your  ten  fin- 
gers, your  eyes,  the  fiber  of  your  brain !  Do  you  think 
the  less  of  your  fulfillment  for  that  ?  " 

So  it  was  that  Hilda  Farrand  gave  her  lover  confi- 
dence, brought  him  out  from  his  fanaticism,  launched 
him  afresh  into  the  current  of  events.  He  remained 
in  Chicago  all  that  summer,  giving  orders  that  all  work 
at  the  village  of  Carpenter  should  cease.  With  his 
affairs  that  summer  we  have  little  to  do.  His  com- 
mon-sense treatment  of  the  stock  market,  by  which  a 
policy  of  quiescence  following  an  outright  buying  of 
the  stock  which  he  had  previously  held  on  margins. 


406  THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 

retrieved  the  losses  already  sustained,  and  finally  put 
both  partners  on  a  firm  financial  footing.  That  is  an- 
other story.  So  too  is  his  reconciliation  with  and 
understanding  of  his  sister.  It  came  about  through 
Hilda,  of  course.  Perhaps  in  the  inscrutable  way  of 
Providence  the  estrangement  was  of  benefit,  —  even 
necessary,  —  for  it  had  thrown  him  entirely  within 
himself  during  his  militant  years. 

Let  us  rather  look  to  the  end  of  the  summer.  It 
now  became  a  question  of  re-opening  the  camps. 
Thorpe  wrote  to  Shearer  and  Radway,  whom  he  had 
retained,  that  he  would  arrive  on  Saturday  noon,  and 
suggested  that  the  two  begin  to  look  about  for  men. 
Friday,  himself,  Wallace  Carpenter,  Elizabeth  Carpen- 
ter, Morton,  Helen  Thorpe,  and  Hilda  Farrand  bourd- 
ed  the  north-bound  train. 


Chapter  LX 


rHE  train  of  the  South  Shore  Railroad  shot  its 
way  across  the  broad  reaches  of  the  northern 
peninsula.  On  either  side  of  the  right-of-way 
lay  mystery  in  the  shape  of  thickets  so  dense  and  over- 
grown that  the  eye  could  penetrate  them  but  a  few  feet 
at  most.  Beyond  them  stood  the  forests.  Thus  Nat- 
ure screened  her  intimacies  from  the  impertinent  eye 
of  a  new  order  of  things. 

Thorpe  welcomed  the  smell  of  the  northland.  He 
became  almost  eager,  explaining,  indicating  to  the 
girl  at  his  side. 

"  There  is.  the  Canada  balsam,"  he  cried.  "  Do  you 
remember  how  I  showed  it  to  you  first  ?  And  yonder 
the  spruce.  How  stuck  up  your  teeth  were  when  you 
tried  to  chew  the  gum  before  it  had  been  heated.  Do 
you  remember  ?  Look !  Look  there !  It's  a  white 
pine !  Isn't  it  a  grand  tree  ?  It's  the  finest  tree  in  the 
forest,  by  my  way  of  thinking,  so  tall,  so  straight,  so 
feathery,  and  so  dignified.  See,  Hilda,  look  quick! 
There's  an  old  logging  road  all  filled  with  raspberry 
vines.  We'd  find  lots  of  partridges  there,  and  perhaps 
a  bear.  Wouldn't  you  just  like  to  walk  down  it  about 
sunset?  " 

"  Yes,  Harry." 

"  I  wonder  what  we're  stopping  for.  Seems  to  me 
they  are  stopping  at  every  squirrel's  trail.  Oh,  this 
must  be  Seney.  Yes,  it  is.  Queer  little  place,  isn't  it  ? 
but  sort  of  attractive.  Good  deal  like  our  town.  You 
have  never  seen  Carpenter,  have  you?  Location's 

407 


408  THE  BLAZED   TRAIL 

fine,  anyway;  and  to  me  it's  sort  of  picturesque. 
You'll  like  Mrs.  Hathaway.  She's  a  buxom,  motherly 
woman  who  runs  the  boarding-house  for  eighty  men, 
and  still  finds  time  to  mend  my  clothes  for  me.  And 
you'll  like  Solly.  Solly's  the  tug  captain,  a  mighty 
good  fellow,  true  as  a  gun  barrel.  We'll  have  him  take 
us  out,  some  still  day.  We'll  be  there  in  a  few  minutes 
now.  See  the  cranberry  marshes.  Sometimes  there's 
a  good  deal  of  pine  on  little  islands  scattered  over  it, 
but  it's  very  hard  to  log,  unless  you  get  a  good  winter. 
We  had  just  such  a  proposition  when  I  worked  for 
Radway.  Oh,  you'll  like  Radway,  he's  as  good  as 
gold.  Helen !  "* 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  sister. 

"  I  want  you  to  know  Radway.  He's  the  man  who 
gave  me  my  start." 

"  All  right,  Harry,"  laughed  Helen.  "  I'll  meet  any- 
body or  anything  from  bears  to  Indians." 

"  I  know  an  Indian  too  —  Geezigut,  an  Ojibwa  — 
we  called  him  Injin  Charley.  He  was  my  first  friend 
in  the  north  woods.  He  helped  me  get  my  timber. 
This  spring  he  killed  a  man  —  a  good  job,  too  —  and 
is  hiding  now.  I  wish  I  knew  where  he  is.  But  we'll 
see  him  some  day.  He'll  come  back  when  the  thing 
blows  over.  See !  See !  " 

"  What  ?  "  they  all  asked,  breathless. 

"  It's  gone.  Over  beyond  the  hills  there  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Superior." 

"  You  are  ridiculous,  Harry,"  protested  Helen 
Thorpe  laughingly.  "  I  never  saw  you  so.  You  are 
a  regular  boy !  " 

"  Do  you  like  boys  ?  "  he  asked  gravely  of  Hilda. 

"  Adore  them !  "  she  cried. 

"  All  right,  I  don't  care,"  he  answered  his  sister  in 
triumph. 

The  air  brakes  began  to  make  themselves  felt,  and 
shortly  the  train  came  to  a  grinding  stop. 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL  409 

"  What  station  is  this  ?  "  Thorpe  asked  the  colored 
porter. 

"  Shingleville,  sah,"  the  latter  replied. 

"  I  thought  so.  Wallace,  when  did  their  mill  burn, 
anyway  ?  I  haven't  heard  about  it." 

"  Last  spring,  about  the  time  you  went  down." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  They  claim  incendiarism,"  parried  Wallace  cau- 
tiously. 

Thorpe  pondered  a  moment,  then  laughed.  "  I  am 
in  the  mixed  attitude  of  the  small  boy,"  he  observed, 
"  who  isn't  mean  enough  to  wish  anybody's  property 
destroyed,  but  who  wishes  that  if  there  is  a  fire,  to  be 
where  he  can  see  it.  I  am  sorry  those  fellows  had  to 
lose  their  mill,  but  it  was  a  good  thing  for  us.  The 
man  who  set  that  fire  did  us  a  good  turn.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  the  burning  of  their  mill,  they  would  hav;. 
made  a  stronger  fight  against  us  in  the  stock  market." 

Wallace  and  Hilda  exchanged  glances.  The  girl 
was  long  since  aware  of  the  inside  history  of  those 
days. 

"  You'll  have  to  tell  them  that,"  she  whispered  over 
the  back  of  her  seat.  "  It  will  please  them." 

"  Our  station  is  next !  "  cried  Thorpe,  "  and  it's  only 
a  little  ways.  Come,  get  ready !  " 

They  all  crowded  into  the  narrow  passage-way  near 
the  door,  for  the  train  barely  paused. 

"  All  right,  sah,"  said  the  porter,  swinging  down  his 
little  step. 

Thorpe  ran  down  to  help  the  ladies.  He  was  nearly 
taken  from  his  feet  by  a  wild-cat  yell,  and  a  moment 
later  that  result  was  actually  accomplished  by  a  rush 
of  men  that  tossed  him  bodily  onto  its  shoulders.  At 
the  same  moment,  the  mill  and  tug  whistles  began  to 
screech,  miscellaneous  fire-arms  exploded.  Even  the 
locomotive  engineer,  in  the  spirit  of  the  occasion, 
leaned  down  heartily  on  his  whistle  rope.  The  saw- 


THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

dust  street  was  filled  with  screaming,  jostling  men. 
The  homes  of  the  town  were  brilliantly  draped  with 
cheesecloth,  flags  and  bunting. 

For  a  moment  Thorpe  could  not  make  out  what  had 
happened.  This  turmoil  was  so  different  from  the 
dead  quiet  of  desertion  he  had  expected,  that  he  was 
unable  to  gather  his  faculties.  All  about  him  were 
familiar  faces  upturned  to  his  own.  He  distinguished 
the  broad,  square  shoulders  of  Scotty  Parsons,  Jack 
Hyland,  Kerlie,  Bryan  Moloney ;  Ellis  grinned  at  him 
from  the  press;  Billy  Camp,  the  fat  and  shiny  drive 
cook ;  Mason,  the  foreman  of  the  mill ;  over  beyond 
howled  Solly,  the  tug  captain,  Rollway  Charley, 
Shorty,  the  chore-boy ;  everywhere  were  features  that 
he  knew.  As  his  dimming  eyes  travelled  here  and 
there,  one  by  one  the  Fighting  Forty,  the  best  crew 
of  men  ever  gathered  in  the  northland,  impressed 
themselves  on  his  consciousness.  Saginaw  birlers, 
Flat  River  drivers,  woodsmen  from  the  forests  of 
lower  Canada,  bully  boys  out  of  the  Muskegon  waters, 
peavey  men  from  Au  Sable,  white-water  dare-devils 
from  the  rapids  of  the  Menominee  —  all  were  there  to 
do  him  honor,  him  in  whom  they  had  learned  to  see 
the  supreme  qualities  of  their  calling.  On  the  out- 
skirts sauntered  the  tall  form  of  Tim  Shearer,  a  straw 
peeping  from  beneath  his  flax-white  mustache,  his 
eyes  glimmering  under  his  flax-white  eyebrows.  He 
did  not  evidence  as  much  excitement  as  the  others, 
but  the  very  bearing  of  the  man  expressed  the  deepest 
satisfaction.  Perhaps  he  remembered  that  zero  morn- 
ing so  many  years  before  when  he  had  watched  the 
thinly-clad,  shivering  chore-boy  set  his  face  for  the 
first  time  towards  the  dark  forest. 

Big  Junko  and  Anderson  deposited  their  burden  on 
the  raised  platform  of  the  office  steps.  Thorpe  turned 
and  fronted  the  crowd. 

At  once  pandemonium  broke  loose,  as  though  the 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL  411 

previous  performance  had  been  nothing  but  a  low- 
voiced  rehearsal. 

The  men  looked  upon  their  leader  and  gave  voice 
to  the  enthusiasm  that  was  in  them.  He  stood  alone 
there,  straight  and  tall,  the  muscles  of  his  brown  face 
set  to  hide  his  emotion,  his  head  thrust  back  proudly, 
the  lines  of  his  strong  figure  tense  with  power, — the 
glorification  in  finer  matter  of  the  hardy,  reliant  men 
who  did  him  honor. 

"  Oh,  aren't  you  proud  of  him  ? "  gasped  Hilda, 
squeezing  Helen's  arm  with  a  little  sob. 

In  a  moment  Wallace  Carpenter,  his  countenance 
glowing  with  pride  and  pleasure,  mounted  the  plat- 
form and  stood  beside  his  friend,  while  Morton 
and  the  two  young  ladies  stopped  half  way  up  the 
steps. 

At  once  the  racket  ceased.  Everyone  stood  at  at- 
tention. 

"  Mr.  Thorpe,"  Wallace  began,  "  at  the  request  of 
your  friends  here,  I  have  a  most  pleasant  duty  to  fulfill. 
They  have  asked  me  to  tell  you  how  glad  they  are  to 
see  you ;  that  is  surely  unnecessary.  They  have  also 
asked  me  to  congratulate  you  on  having  won  the  fight 
with  our  rivals." 

"  You  done  'em  good."  "  Can't  down  the  Old  Fel- 
low," muttered  joyous  voices. 

"  But,"  said  Wallace,  "  I  think  that  I  first  have  a 
story  to  tell  on  my  own  account. 

"  At  the  time  the  jam  broke  this  spring,  we  owed 
the  men  here  for  a  year's  work.  At  that  time  I  con,- 
sidered  their  demand  for  wages  ill-timed  and  grasp- 
ing. I  wish  to  apologize.  After  the  money  was  paid 
them,  instead  of  scattering,  they  set  to  work  under 
Jack"  Radway  and  Tim  Shearer  to  salvage  your  logs. 
They  have  worked  long  hours  all  summer.  They 
have  invested  every  cent  of  their  year's  earnings  in 
supplies  and  tools,  and  now  they  are  prepared  to  show 


412  THE   BLAZED   TRAIL 

you  in  the  Company's  booms,  three  million  feet  of 
logs,  rescued  by  their  grit  and  hard  labor  from  total 
loss." 

At  this  point  the  speaker  was  interrupted.  "  Saw 
off,"  "  Shut  up,"  "  Give  us  a  rest,"  growled  the  audi- 
ence. "  Three  million  feet  ain't  worth  talkin'  about," 
"  You  make  me  tired,"  "  Say  your  little  say  the  way 
you  oughter,"  "  Found  purty  nigh  two  millions  pock- 
eted on  Mare's  Island,  or  we  wouldn't  a  had  that 
much,"  "  Damn-fool  undertaking,  anyhow." 

"  Men,"  cried  Thorpe,  "  I  have  been  very  fortunate. 
From  failure  success  has  come.  But  never  have  I 
been  more  fortunate  than  in  my  friends.  The  firm  is 
HOW  on  its  feet.  It  could  afford  to  lose  three  times 
the  logs  it  lost  this  year " 

He  paused  and  scanned  their  faces. 

"  But,"  he  continued  suddenly,  "  it  cannot  now,  nor 
ever  can  afford  to  lose  what  those  three  million  feet 
represent,  —  the  friends  it  has  made.  I  can  pay  you 
back  the  money  you  have  spent  and  the  time  you  have 

put  in "  Again  he  looked  them  over,  and  then 

for  the  first  time  since  they  have  known  him  his  face 
lighted  up  with  a  rare  and  tender  smile  of  affection. 
"  But,  comrades,  I  shall  not  offer  to  do  it :  the  gift  is 
accepted  in  the  spirit  with  which  it  was  offered " 

He  got  no  further.  The  air  was  rent  with  sound. 
Even  the  members  of  his  own  party  cheered.  From 
every  direction  the  crowd  surged  inward.  The  women 
and  Morton  were  forced  up  the  platform  to  Thorpe. 
The  latter  motioned  for  silence. 

"  Now,  boys,  we  have  done  it,"  said  he,  "  and  so  will 
go  back  to  work.  From  now  on  you  are  my  comrades 
in  the  fight." 

His  eyes  were  dim;  his  breast  heaved;  his  voice 
shook.  Hilda  was  weeping  from  excitement.  Through 
the  tears  she  saw  them  all  looking  at  their  leader,  and 
in  the  worn,  hard  faces  glowed  the  affection  and  admi- 


THE  BLAZED  TRAIL 


412 


ration  of  a  dog  for  its  master.  Something  there  was 
especially  touching  in  this,  for  strong  men  rarely  show 
it.  She  felt  a  great  wave  of  excitement  sweep  over 
her.  Instantly  she  was  standing  by  Thorpe,  her  eyes 
streaming,  her  breast  throbbing  with  emotion. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  stretching  her  arms  out  to  them 
passionately,  "  Oh !  I  love  you ;  I  love  you  all  1 " 


THE  END 


THF.  COUXTRY  LIFE  FKESB 
GAJU3ES  CTTY  JJ.  T. 


CAYLORD 


DATE  DUE 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  259  602    9 


